Moon In Scorpio
by Turretwithaview
Summary: A somewhat AU fic. She's cool, she's a mystery. He's a writer and he want to know more about his late-night visitor. 1 Chapter going up each day.
1. Chapter 1

**MOON IN SCORPIO**

**_AN: This is a little AU. Most characters will remain fairly canon, a couple of them will inhabit totally different 'skins'. This fic is already half written (56 Chapters) the remaining ones should take it to about 100 (which is why some of my other stories are on the back-burner at the moment). I will be posting 1 chapter per day and I hope you guys enjoy it ... Oh! And Reviews and Comments are always welcome, let me know what you think!_**

**_Chapter 1_**

* * *

The city lights spread out around her, like a dancing necklace of illumination pulsing to the city's heartbeat, a crazy cacophony of flickering radiance which only sunlight will dim.

A final glance around and one more tug on the cable to check, then she's hooking the harness onto the carabiner, a smooth but quick lift of her feet and her body's sliding across the open space between the buildings.

Below her, the occupants of the occasional passing vehicles or the few pedestrians out at this time of night, heads down in the chill air, wending their way home or to early morning shifts are oblivious to the shadowy figure zipping across the gap ... even if any of them looked upwards, the dark clad figure would be no more than a fleeting, half-seen figment of imagination …

The dark granite coping stones appear below her feet and pulling on the break brings her to a stop. A press of her fingers and she's released the harness from the slider. She drops to a crouch on the parapet, one more dark shadow amongst the many.

The terrace is an oasis in the city, potted plants and shrubs, an artificial stone table with legs moulded to represent a forest scene; grasses and ferns with lizards and snails and a dozen other creatures frozen in time and movement. In the corner is a stone fountain, silent and still this autumn night, whilst the trellised pergola casts crisscross patterns of light and shadow across the tiled area that lead to the door. She can't make all the finer details out on this chilly night, but an afternoon of observation from the rooftop across the street has burnt them into her mind.

She moves along the top of the parapet, crouched low to avoid her silhouette being noticed against the moonlight. She reaches the central section of the parapet along Broom Street and unties the climbing rope from around her waist. Its thin, only 9.8mm in diameter, but more than enough to take her weight and that of her equipment.

Quickly making a noose, she slips it over the pier cap, tugs it tight and ties a padded weight to the other end before letting it run smoothly through her fingers until its paid out. She's cut it carefully to the right length so that the end now hanging down the front of the building does not go beyond the top floor. She doesn't want the weighted end tapping against a neighbour's window and giving her away.

Leaning out over the parapet, one hand holding onto the rope, she checks that it is in fact trailing down the granite column and not across a window before settling her backpack comfortably and allowing her body to drop over the edge. Her rubber soled shoes find purchase on the slightly weathered surface and soon she's abseiling down the short distance to the top floor ledge where she pauses for a moment, checking the scene around her.

The floor is in darkness, the six windows stretching out on either side of her, dark mirrors reflecting nothing but moonlight and the lights of an occasional passing vehicle. She glances down at the street below, a cab with its vacant light on cruises past, she can make out a garbage truck in the distance, a few vehicles in between.

She pauses once again, waiting and listening for any signs of danger. Nothing. She may have to leave in a hurry, though that has hardly ever happened, but just to be on the safe side, she prefers to be prepared. Quietly, careful not to hit anything against the granite walls, she removes her backpack, pulls out the ascenders and clips them on to the rope, one about two feet above the other. She clips the backpack onto the specially designed harness so that its now hanging against her thigh and in easy reach before making her way along the ledge till she's by the window.

She's pretty sure from her hacking of local security companies and knowledge of these types of buildings that the security is going to be basic, most occupants relying on the CCTV and Doorman downstairs to hold the invaders at bay, surprisingly naive over the possible access from above. Furthermore, most people don't set the alarms when they are at home, only when they go out or away.

She removes a small crow bar from the backpack, no longer than thirty centimetres, built to her own design and with all but the ends sheathed in rubber both for grip and to kill sound. Setting it carefully on the ledge next to her, she then proceeds to remove a second tool looking very much like the Slim Jims used by locksmiths and car thieves along with two small wooden wedges. Carefully nudging the crowbar between the sashes she applies sufficient pressure to prise them apart until she can slip the second tool in between them. Cautiously sliding it along, she soon finds the latch and with practised ease pushes it to the open position.

Removing the Slim Jim first and then easing off the pressure on the crowbar before pulling it out, she then applies it to the bottom of the window, cracking it open a fraction to check that it moves easily. Assured, she slips in the first of the wooden wedges before resetting the crow bar and raising the window another centimetre. The second wedge goes in near the left end and the first one is moved over to the right. The crow bar is quietly returned to the backpack and a small pencil torch pulled out of a Velcro-sealed breast pocket.

Again she checks the surrounding area to make sure no one is paying undue interest. Reassured, she pushes the torch through the gap at the bottom of the window and moves it around a bit without yet turning it on. She can feel that there are curtains or blinds drawn across the window on the inside, so she once again uses the Slim Jim to feel her way. After a few seconds she finds the slit where the curtains join in the centre and carefully uses the Slim to pull the material to one side, creating an inverted V gap about a foot wide. Only now does she turn on the pencil torch. The thin beam travels around the visible area of the room showing her a bedroom, door closed and bed empty. She turns the torch off. Three nights watching the pattern of lights going on and off on this top floor has led her to believe that this room is never or rarely used, which was why she's chosen it as her entry point.

Somewhat reassured, she slips her fingers into the crack and raises the bottom sash far enough to allow her very flexible body to slip inside. Standing still she holds the sash in place until her hearing confirms the continued silence in the immediate area. Only then does she pick up one of the wedges and raising the sash further she jams it in on one side of the frame. Carefully she lowers the sash and feels it move slightly downwards and to one side as the wedge does its job of holding it in place.

Releasing her breath, she carefully recovers the other wedge and slides it along with the slim into her backpack. She stands still for nearly two minutes, allowing her breathing to even out, her eyesight to adjust and her hearing to absorb the sounds of the home which is currently unawares of her entry.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

Satisfied, she releases the backpack from the harness and quietly sets it on the ledge outside the window. For now, all she will need is in her pockets on in the specially designed pouches on her belt.

As silent as a cat she reaches the door and gently turns the handle before cracking it open. The hinges don't creak and a few seconds later she's slowly opened the door sufficiently to allow her slim body to slip through the gap. Again she stands still, taking in the sounds around her, looking for movement sensors or other security systems in place. She finds herself in a long hallway, almost two thirds of the way down, a faint glow of light coming from the far end where she can make out what looks like banisters.

Eventually she moves to her right towards the end of the hallway closest to her. There is a door here, similar to the one she's just used to enter the hallway. Her observations over the last three nights have shown her that this room's occupant is erratic in so far as bedtime is concerned, but tonight she has seen the lights go on and eventually be turned off some two hours previously. Even from outside the door she can hear gentle snoring from inside. Again she waits, learning the rhythm and cadence of this occupant's sleep before cautiously opening the door and slipping inside.

She stands still again, breathing even and shallow until she has gained an idea of the room's layout. There is a bed to the left of the room with the sleeping occupant barely visible under the bedcovers. Next to that is a bedside table, against the right wall is a dressing table, a door to either side. One is slightly ajar and she thinks she can make out a sink through the gap, the other she guesses is a cupboard or clothes closet.

Like a shadow she crosses to the dresser, checks the top and looks at the couple of pieces of jewellery there, even in the dark and only from the weight she guesses they aren't more than costume jewellery, but she checks none the less, using her body to shield the thin beam of light from the occupant of the bed.

It's in the second drawer down, on the left hand side, that she finds the jewellery box. The contents are a mix, some very nice modern pieces which she slips into the empty pouch at the back of her belt, but most of it, like the items on the top of the dresser are of no interest to her.

There's a pause in the rhythm of the snores, a sort of snuffle and she can hear the occupant of the bed turning over. She silently drops to the floor and freezes. For several moments she concentrates her hearing on the occupant of the bed, the deep, slow breaths are once again prevalent, the snoring seemingly stopped by the turning over. She waits, hears the first small snort which eventually becomes the gentle snoring of before.

Slowly she climbs back to her feet, stands still as she checks the rest of the room, moving only her eyes. There is nothing more for her here, so like smoke in the dark, she makes her way out to the hallway, quietly closing the door behind her, muffling the snores which had now returned to their previous volume.

She heads back along the hallway, past the open door to the room she had used to access the property. She stops at the next door, once again repeating the millimetric and cautious opening of the door. It's a bathroom, with a feminine touch to it … nothing here for her. She closes the door as quietly as she opened it, the sound of the catch settling home no louder than a pen being clicked, but even so she stands still, allows the ambient sounds to register once again. The next door she opens is another bedroom, this time she can make out the form of a young girl in the bed, covers down by her waist, the curtains are slightly open and the light from the street outside allows her to see details which don't require the pencil torch.

She has few rules, but those she does have are ironbound and strictly adhered to, and one of those is that she does not steal from kids and especially young girls. Without knowing why she does it, she moves towards the bed and pulls the covers up over the girl, quietly and carefully tucking them in around her. Then she slowly retreats from the room, closing the door silently behind her.

She reaches the end of the hallway and crouches at the top of the stairs, carefully surveying the scene below her. The glow of light she had noticed previously comes from the myriad electrical appliances, each with a display, clock or some other led emitting sufficient light for her eyes to be able to make out details. The fridge, the microwave, the oven, the dishwasher, the TV … all added to the street lighting that made its way through the un-curtained windows are sufficient for her previously acquired night-sight to easily make out the layout of the room.

Glancing down at the staircase she can see they are wooden steps though the balustrade railings are metal. Placing her feet on alternating ends of the steps, as close to the balustrades as possible, she makes her silent way down into the sitting room. To her left is the kitchen, open plan, with a table and chairs off to one side and the windows at the back tell her they will look onto Crosby Street and that there is nothing of interest to her there.

Turning to her right she surveys the room, the four pillars which support the open plan, the couch just in front of her, what looks like the front door to her right, a piano in the far corner along with the windows giving on to Broom. Her curiosity however is piqued by the faint glow of light which seems to filter through the wall before her. Carefully skirting the furniture, it is only when she's close enough, she realised that what she had taken for a wall, is in fact a set of bookcases and that it is light from the next room that is filtering through the books and bric-a-brac that fill the shelves.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Chapter 3 _**

Pulling open the door set into the bookshelves she peers into room and notes the desk standing immediately in front of her, the open laptop along with the wall bracket highlighting the picture of a staircase emitting the soft light which was filtering through the walls of books. To her right is a partly open door which allows a bit more light from the next room to shine through into the study. It is as she's turning to her left to look at the books on the shelves that she almost loses it. Only the fact that she's been doing this for so long stops her giving a cry of surprise; she only just manages to keep it down to a gasp.

The tall, elegantly suited figure standing against the shelves, arms crossed and holding a book in his hand smiling at her in such a charming way has her heart racing and the pulse in her neck going like a trip hammer. It's only her acquired night vision and the combination of stillness and reflected light that makes her realise he's not for real, that it is in fact a life-sized cut-out. But this is not the only reason her heart is pounding and her breath coming in short snatches, for only moments after realising she's looking at a cut-out figure, she's also recognised him … its Richard Frikin' Castle!

_Oh … My … God!_ Either she's entered a fan's apartment or else she's invaded her favourite author's home! She's still so shocked by her discovery that she misses the sound from behind her, and its only when a shocked voice says ...

"_And who the hell are you?_" that she becomes aware that she's no longer alone. Spinning round she gets shocked into immobility for the second time that night. Standing only four feet away is another life-size Richard Castle, only this one is wearing a pair of boxers under an open fronted bath robe and is most definitely no cut-out!

Her brain seems to be frozen and although her eyes follow his hand as it sweeps towards the wall beside him, her body continues rooted to the spot. The sudden glare as his fingers find the light switch blinds her as her enlarged pupils cannot compensate quickly enough for the overload but it does bring her out of her stupor and throwing back her arm she desperately searches for and then finds the doorway back into the sitting room. Still barely able to see, she dives out through the door, feeling the tips of his groping fingers touch, hold and then lose their grip on her arm. She's dodging round the pillar, sprinting across towards the stairs and taking them two and three at a time, the heavy tread of her pursuer not far behind. She makes it to the hallway and is surprised when she reaches the third door to hear the running steps behind her come to a halt further down the hall. She doesn't wait to find out why, she simply slams the door behind her, gets to the window and slips out onto the ledge. A quick tug and the wooden wedge holding the bottom half of the window open is in her hand, the sash slamming downwards and adding a further temporary barrier to her pursuit.

She grabs her backpack off the ledge, takes a second to attach it to her harness before slipping first one and then the other foot into the straps of the ascenders. Resting her weight on the higher of the two straps she slides the lower ascender up till it hits the upper one before shifting her weight onto that strap. The topmost ascender is now free to be pushed up another couple of feet before the procedure is repeated again. It's a smooth and rapid ascent and she's almost reached the top of the rope, only a few inches below the parapet when she hears the window open below her and a thoroughly annoyed Richard Castle yelling out a "_Hey!_"

As soon as she's made it onto the top of the parapet, she's pulling the weighted rope up and releasing it from around the pier cap. She doesn't even bother rolling it up, there's no time, she just rams it into the backpack and runs along the parapet till she's reached the jump wire. Hooking on the harness she allows her feet to leave the ground and expertly and quickly pulls herself across the chasm that is Crosby Street and onto the corner building's terrace.

A hard tug on the end of the jump wire and she slips the knot around the fixture point she'd chosen, before an expert flick of her wrist releases the spring loaded and padded grappling hook from its tenure on the Castle's rooftop terrace. Even as the hook begins to swing down across the street with the risk of smashing into the wall below her, the self-coiling reel is speedily winding the jump wire in. With only a few feet left for the lightweight grappling hook to hit the wall below her, another flick of her wrist flips it upwards into the air before it falls back down into her waiting hand. Only just in time it would seem as the doorway to the terrace across the street bursts open and Richard Castle and another guy she assumes is the doorman rush out onto the terrace, torches waving all over the place.

She ducks down behind the wall and quickly gathers the remaining gear into the large sports bag she uses before moving across to the opposite side in a crouch that will keep her out of sight of those on the other terrace. She can already hear sirens in the distance, so she doesn't hesitate to slip over the wall and drop down onto the fire escape. Within minutes she's made it down onto the street and is soon astride her Harley Softail, irritation fighting with amusement on her face as she slips on her helmet and slams the visor shut.

* * *

**_AN: About the terrace. If you look at some of the outside shots of the loft in the episodes (or Google Map it), you'll notice there is a roof garden on the building. For my story I've made this terrace part of the loft as it will have some import to the story._**


	4. Chapter 4

**_Chapter 4_**

Richard Castle is feeling frustrated, annoyed, gloomy and lost …. to list just a few adjectives. Ever since killing off Derrick Storm, he has been unable to write anything even mediocre. Yes he's glad to have ended the Storm series, he had become bored with the predictability, unfortunately he has yet to come up with a replacement. He's spent the best part of the evening and night once Alexis had gone to bed in swilling bourbon round a glass and trying to come up with some inspired writing. He'd had little luck in either department; the bourbon ended up slopping over his wrist and the white page on the laptop's screen had remained obstinately blank.

With a sigh he'd licked the spilt drink off his wrist and had then headed for his bathroom to wash off the sticky remains. Now, he's about to head back to the study to close the laptop down when he hears a noise. Thinking that maybe Alexis or his mother have come down to get something from the kitchen, he's about to call out as he steps into the office when he freezes. The figure near the sitting room's doorway is not one he recognises; tall, slim, dressed in black is about as much as he can make out initially.

"_And who the hell are you?_" he blurts out before he even thinks of the danger that an intruder could suppose. His fingers find the light switch and he turns the ceiling lights on. He doesn't know what he expects … he certainly doesn't expect the vision before him. She is still tall and slim and still dressed in black, but what he hadn't expected was the short cropped red hair that frames a stunningly beautiful face and what he thought were incredible green eyes before she'd scrunched them closed.

Even as he sees her begin to move he throws himself forward to try and stop her … hell, he doesn't know why, he just doesn't want to lose the vision just yet. She slips out of his grip, almost falls through the doorway and is then up and running, he, unthinkingly in hot pursuit. It's only as she races down the hall and he sees Alexis' door that he abruptly thinks of the danger and is suddenly scared stiff in case something has happened to his little girl.

He comes to a stop, pushes open his daughter's door and steps over to the bed to see that she`s safe. The slamming of the guest room door wakes Alexis up and it takes a few minutes for him to make sure she's unharmed and to tell her to phone Eduardo, down in reception. By the time he's made it into the guest room he's only just in time to see something disappearing past the top of the window. Getting it open and leaning out he can just make out a dark shape silhouetted against the sky, his shouted _Hey!_ totally ineffective.

The uproar has even woken his mother up and by the time he's checked that both she and Alexis are unharmed and he's let Eduardo in and they've made it up onto the rooftop terrace, there is no sign of the intruder.

It's a long night with the police checking the loft for hidden intruders and clues to his visitor's identity, there's the usual tut-tutting at the lack of decent security and the barely veiled suggestion of crazy groupies and fans. It's only when Martha finds she's missing some items of jewellery that the cops actually have something which points to B&E as opposed to crazy fans. A CSU tech dusts Martha's dresser and jewellery box for prints, but the smudges indicate the intruder was wearing gloves which, when asked, Castle confirms after conjuring up her image in his mind.

With only a few items of jewellery missing and no one harmed, the cops don't seem too interested, but Rick agrees to call in at the precinct the following day … today … shit … if he can get some sleep, to have the sketch artist draw up a likeness of his intruder and to describe the missing jewels just in case they should turn up sometime in the future.

The cops don't think his intruder will risk returning that night but still advise him to find something with which to wedge the upstairs windows closed. The door to the upstairs terrace, along with the front door are the only entry points to offer decent security, which was probably why his intruder had gone for the window entry.

Eventually the police have left, his mother and daughter have gone back to bed and Rick flops down onto his bed. He feels exhausted, and yet his body is tingling, the adrenaline still running through his body in spite of the elapsed time since he had walked in on his astounding intruder. Who was she? How come someone with her body and looks was involved in burglary? He can't understand it …. nor can he get her out of his mind as he twists and turns in his bed.

It's gone eleven when Rick wakes, still feeling exhausted, unsure at first if the occurrences of the early hours had been a dream or reality. It's only when he walks out to the kitchen, buttoning up his blue dress shirt and sees the empty mugs of coffee littering the kitchen island that the early morning's events take on the veneer of reality. His shower has freshened him up a bit, but it isn't until he'd drunk half his coffee that the full implications and occurrences hit home. Placing the coffee cup on the counter he rushes up the stairs and checks in on his daughter. The room's empty, bed made, everything in order … his pumpkin has obviously left for school without waking him.

He's just pulling the door closed behind him when his mother, not quite looking her usual bright and cheerful self but still colourfully and smartly turned out appears from her bedroom.

"_Oh! Hello Richard darling, did you manage to get some sleep after all the brouhaha of last night?_"

"_Morning mother_" he answers, giving her cheek a kiss as she places her hand on his shoulder and gives him a Rodgers smile. "_Not very much, but I need to get down to the police station and then sort out some decent security for this place!_"

"_Well I'm off for a casting session, so I don't know when I'll be back, just ask those nice policemen to do everything they can to recover my jewels will you?_" she throws brightly over her shoulder as she makes her way towards the stairs.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Chapter 5_**

He clips the Visitor tag onto his lapel and although he has to go up to Robbery, he wants to make another call first. Stepping out onto the Homicide floor he looks around and spotting his targets walks over to them, a grin on his face.

Detective Javier Esposito is the first to look up and notice him, before nudging his partner and drawling "_Well look what the cat just dragged in Kevin!_"

Detective Kevin Ryan looks up from the file he is studying and grins before getting to his feet and reaching out to shake the writer's outstretched hand. "_Hello Castle! What brings you back into our neck of the woods? Going to do some more research on the NYPD?_"

"_Hello boys, good to see you again. Actually I could do with some help, unofficially so to speak_ .."

"_Castle _…" said the grinning Hispanic as he shook Rick's hand "… _if you've murdered someone we can't cover for you … not unless we get to drive the Ferrari again!_"

It's incredible thinks Rick, he'd spent just over three weeks last year following this pair of cops around Manhattan when he was researching for the final Storm book. They'd been a great few weeks, especially with the double act they put on. Yes, he'd paid for most of the meals, got them front row seats at a couple of games and allowed them to drive the Ferrari, but he's still touched at the genuine friendliness they were offering him.

"_We had a break-in during the early hours …_" he quickly adds at the look of concern on their faces, "… _nothing big, just a few pieces of my mother's jewellery gone. It's just that I was wondering if you guys could find out if there have been any similar cases recently?_"

Javi looks at him, eyebrow quirked, "_This for a story or you thinking of becoming a vigilante, Castle?_"

He ignores Ryan's chuckle, already slipping into the comedy routine they'd run whilst he'd been following them. "_Story, boys, story. Now that Storm's dead I need to come up with a new character, maybe a smart detective tracking down an international jewel thief?_" he waggles his eyebrows at them

Neither look impressed "_Been there Castle, got the T-shirt_" says Kevin

"_Ok, but still, could you guys let me know if you find anything? I'd sure appreciate it!_"

"_Like how much?_" asks Esposito

"_A couple of courtside seats for the next Knicks game?_"

Both cops look at each other and then back at him without saying anything

"_Ok, ok, courtside seats for the next three games!_"

All three bump fists and Javi tells him they'll call him if they have anything "_You still using the same number Castle?_"

He nods and they wave to each other as he heads back to the lift.

The visit to Robbery is a bit less friendly though perfectly professional. A detective Demming takes notes of what he has to say and compares these with the report filed by the police who were called to the scene. He's uncommunicative when Rick asks him if there have been other, similar burglaries in the area, simply telling him he is unable to divulge any such information.

Castle hides his smile, he may not want to divulge any such information, but he's unwittingly informed him that such information exists. The detective then introduces him to a sketch artist and shows them to a room where they can work to get a picture of his intruder.

It takes about twenty minutes for the artist to produce a sketch based on Castle's memory. She might have been a barely glimpsed visitor, but the image of her standing there in shock, staring at him, was deeply imprinted in his mind. It's when the artist is refining the eyes, adjusting the taper of the nose that Rick suddenly begins to have misgivings. The picture emerging on the pad is an incredible likeness to the one seared into his cortex. But does he actually want the police to have this sketch? Does he want her face plastered over newspaper pages, notice boards and police station wanted boards?

This beautiful face belongs to a mystery he is dying to know more about. Who is she? What is she? Why was she in his loft? Is she in fact a cat-burglar? She certainly has the tools and technique … but suddenly he wants her to himself, he isn't prepared to share her with the rest of the world just yet … no, at least not until he's discovered who she is and what makes her tick.

With that in mind he begins to let doubt show on his face, not much, just enough, a creased brow, a slight twist to his mouth … all those subtle signs that he had unwittingly picked up from his mother and her friends … the actor coming to the fore.

The sketch artist, work almost complete, notices the look, the slight sheepishness in the man's expression. "_Something not right?_" he asks.

"_I'm sorry, it's my fault, I must have allowed my mind to think about my daughter … and … well, the work is great, but I think I've mixed some of Alexis' features with the woman who broke in last night, do you mind if we start again, I can use that one to be more focused, not make the same mistake again_ .." he allowed a slight pleading tone to colour his voice.

The artist shrugs, rips the sheet off the pad and hands it to Castle who can barely contain his excitement. This time, using the incredible likeness of the intruder in his hands, he makes small alterations to his descriptions; hair a little longer, nose a little wider here a bit more curved here, the chin a little squarer, the lips a little thinner … by the time the artist has finished the second sketch any similarity between it and his unexpected visitor was minimal to say the least.

"_Do you mind if I keep this one?_" he asks, indicating the first sketch, "_I think my daughter will laugh when she sees it_"

The artist, standing up and gathering his stuff together shrugs, "_Sure, no problem_"

Castle rolls the picture up and after shaking hands with the artist carefully holds his jacket so that it covers the paper and hides it from view before heading back to Detective Demming's desk and thanking him. Demming doesn't offer to shake hands, just politely tells him he'll keep him informed of any developments and returns to his paperwork. Castle is quite happy to head to the lift and make his way out of the precinct.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Chapter 6_**

She pushes through the door, allowing it to swing closed behind her, keeping the warmth in and the cold out. She scans the room for a couple of seconds, checks that there are no cops or other undesirables before heading across to the counter. Penny sees her coming and gets her usual latte with two pumps sugar free vanilla and a slice of freshly baked apple pie. She smiles back at her, hands over the money, grabs a paper off the counter and heads to an empty corner table from where she can keep an eye on the window and door but still be relatively out of sight from the street.

Its two days since the fiasco at the Castle place, two days since she let her guard drop for all of a couple of seconds and nearly paid the price, two days since she'd unsuspectingly walked in on him in nothing more than a pair of boxers and dressing gown hanging open, showing … Ugh! She mentally slaps herself … focus, what if he's given her description to the cops? No one has ever seen her in her nocturnal visits, no one can associate her night-time activities with those of her daytime ones. But she'd allowed herself to get distracted, and now she could be picked up at any time by the cops.

With a sigh, she takes a sip of coffee and cuts into the beautifully made pie. She opens the paper and begins to leaf through it, picking out headlines and only if these are of interest does she bother reading the article. It's on page five that she almost jumps out of her skin **_Castle Capers Foiled!_** screamed the headline … but it's not the article that catches her attention, it's the sketch covering a quarter of the page that has her fully focused. She can't help it, the mirror on the wall to her left is in the perfect position for seated clients to check their appearance … right now she doesn't give a crap about her appearance per se … it's what the hell the picture in the paper and her face have in common!

She keeps glancing at the sketch and then comparing her own reflection. So, the hair is similar, though longer and curled outwards at the tips. The eyebrows are climbing halfway up the sketch's forehead; she can only get them that way by pulling faces. The lips are thinner, the chin and jawline more masculine than her own … shit … she could walk straight into a cop shop and not even get a second glance!

She settles back against the seat and glances around in the hope that no one has seen her doing a spot-the-difference in the mirror. The clientele as far as she can see is totally ignoring her. She lets out her pent-up breath, takes a sip of coffee and has another bite of pie. She then decides to read the article and by the time she's finished her brows are knit in puzzlement. The story is accurate and factual as far as it goes, yet the sketch is pretty off-target. Was the writer such a poor observer that he was unable to get a single feature of her face right, yet able to describe her clothing and even her method of climbing from the ledge to the terrace absolutely spot on?

_Note to self; dispose of all clothing used two nights ago. _

There is something strange going on here and she doesn't like strange … it unsettles her. Either the writer is incompetent, which she doesn't for a minute believe, or he is playing some deep game here which she is not at all happy about. Finishing her coffee and scooping up the last of the pie into her mouth, she pulls the page from the paper, folds it up and tucks it into her pocket before carrying her dish and cup back to the counter. She drops the paper on the pile, thanks Penny and heads out onto the street, walking down a block and turning two corners before climbing onto her Harley and heading home.

She pulls up in a side street near her building, automatically scanning the area before stepping off the bike. She slips the anti-theft fob into her pockets and still wearing her helmet heads into her building. Only once she's in the lift heading up to the apartment does she remove the helmet, running her fingers through her hair to fluff it out. Maybe she should start letting it grow long. She can't help glancing at herself in the mirror … maybe she just didn't have a memorable face … she bites her lip, jeez Kate, just forget it!

Pushing the door closed behind her, she leans a hand against the wall whilst she pulls off her boots, hangs her coat on the rack and with a sigh heads for her bedroom. First things first; she soon has the black turtleneck sweater, black leather jacket with soft elastic cuffs and waist band along with the military style black pants rolled up into a plastic bag. The climbing shoes are standard sports equipment and she only wears them on the job, so she decides to keep them. Anyway, if the sketch is all the cops have to go on, she feels pretty calm about it, all things considered.

She carries the bag to the door and leaves it there for later, turning the TV on she flicks through to one of the local news channel. About ten minutes later as she's studying the contents of a file, the item she was waiting for comes up. The information is even less detailed than the press report, much more speculation about whether it was a fan rather than a burglar. The same sketch she's seen earlier pops up on the screen. She finally lets herself relax, it isn't just the newspaper's mess-up, the sketch is the official police sketch … which still doesn't explain why Richard Castle has got her so wrong, but does mean she's got away this time!

She waits until dark before dressing in bike leathers, grabbing the bag with the clothes and heading down to the street. She travels a good twenty minutes towards Harlem before looking for what she needs. She sees her as she passed an alley; a teenage girl sitting on a stoop, hugging herself and obviously in need of whatever she's mainlining. Pulling up she pulls the leather jacket from the bag, whistles, and when the gaunt featured girl looks up, tosses her the jacket. The girl instinctively tries to catches it, though her coordination is off and she just sits there, mouth agape, staring at the motorcyclist.

Kate shrugs, puts her bike in gear and moves off. She hopes the girl can get out of her situation before she kills herself, but right now, whether she keeps the jacket for warmth or sells it for a dose of something is irrelevant, in a day or two that jacket will no longer be traceable back to her. She heads up to Washington heights before leaving the sweater on a park bench, someone will find it and think it's too good to leave there she reckons. Her final stop is in Upper Westside where she leaves the trousers by one of the shelters being used by some homeless people in an alleyway. Even as she's getting back on her bike she notices they've disappeared from where she'd left them.

With those possibly incriminating pieces of evidence suitably disposed of, Kate heads back to her apartment … she has a lot of thinking to do.

* * *

_**AN: Though it has nothing to do with this story I would like to add this footnote in memory of Nelson Mandela who has just died. A Great Man who many leaders could do worse than emulate. RIP.  
**_


	7. Chapter 7

**_Chapter 7_**

Castle sits at the table in Remy's and sips his coffee whilst he works on the crossword. He looks up as the two detectives approach and flop down into the seats opposite. Esposito slides a folder onto the table and slaps his hand onto it as Castle is about to take it. "_This does not leave our sight_" he says sternly.

Castle nods then looking at the men opposite him asks "_Wouldn't you guys like a coffee or something?_"

The two detectives look at each other, sigh, get up and head for the counter. Castle pulls the folder towards him, flips the cover, and pulling his phone from his pocket begins taking photos of the file. The two detectives take their time getting their coffees and by the time they return, Castle has completed photographing the contents. He slides the folder back across the table, quietly thanks the cops and as he stands up to leave, adds "_Oh! And before I forget, tickets will be available in your names for you to pick up at the ticket office_"

Castle makes his way into the loft, shutting the door behind him and heading straight to the office, he's impatient to get the information from his phone up onto his story board, turning on his laptop, the screen and connecting his phone. For the next two and a half hours he goes through the information from the file, looking for the pattern which will give him the first clue about his visitor … he can't help turning to look at the sketch which he's affixed to some backing board and has placed on an easel near the bookshelves … he finds her more intriguing every time he looks at the drawing.

There are at least three of the robbery reports in the file which he doesn't feel match the MO of the rest. Though the entries were made using climbing gear, as were all the cases in the file, they also involved violence, and though he's willing to keep an open mind on this matter, neither the behaviour of his visitor, nor her reaction when she'd been caught convinced him she would react in such a way. It could be wishful thinking, but he doesn't think she's responsible for those three cases.

Removing them from the screen for the present, he looks at the remaining nine cases, pulling up a map of Manhattan and marking each of the locations. Of course the file does not include his own incident as it is still so recent, so he adds a mark for it. Looking at the pattern he can see a clearly defined arc, not that all the marks line up perfectly, some lay further out, some further in towards his imaginary centre, but the more he looks at it the more he becomes convinced.

When he adds the three cases he has previously discarded, the pattern is disrupted; one of them is up near Central Park, a second one is at Turtle Bay and the third one up in Hell's Kitchen. They add chaos to his arc theory. Deleting these three, leaves him with an arc running south-east from Chelsea, through Kips Bay, down to Stuyvesant, past Alphabet city and curving back westwards towards his own loft; the natural centre of this arc is somewhere round the West Village or Greenwich Avenue, whilst if he were to place them on a circle, the centre would be somewhere round Union Square Park.

The police have not found any common denominators linking the victims; some are known to each other, some not, some have children others not, of the nine robberies he is working with … well ten if he includes himself, there are two lawyers, an accountant, a hospital administrator, two art dealers, one retired, one not, two financial advisors, a male fashion model and himself. None of the names are familiar to him and the police have so far been unsuccessful in linking them in any way. Nor have any of the stolen items, nearly all modern art or jewellery, turned up so far, it seems like the thief or thieves don't like classic or antique, which is puzzling both victims and police as a number of those targeted found family heirlooms and pieces of art of more value than those taken, still in place.

So, maybe tomorrow he should start by visiting each of them and seeing if the police have missed some vital clue. Whether he will get anywhere with these fellow victims, he doesn't know, but at least it's worth a try. He is also feeling the first stirrings of an idea. When he'd told the two detectives at the 12th that he was thinking of creating a new character, a detective who would be tracking down an international jewel thief, it had been nothing more than a cover for his request, but every time he thought about it, and that was occurring with more frequency each time, it was actually the thief who was taking on the role of principal character … and he had just the person in mind for that role!

He hears the door to the loft opening and closing before his daughter calls out "_Hey Dad, I'm home!_"

"_Be with you in a moment Pumpkin!_" He quickly saves the work he has been doing before closing down the story board, placing the laptop on his desk and heading to the kitchen to give his daughter the biggest hug he can.

They are half-way through preparing an ice-cream-and-every-topping-you-can-think-of when the security company he has contacted that morning arrives to install the new system. It's dark outside by the time the men have finished. New locks have been added to the windows, the door to the roof terrace, though secure enough, has had a new alarm connected. Movement sensors have been added throughout the loft along with panic buttons in the bedrooms and the control panel by the door has been duplicated in his bedroom so that in the event of a Martha's walk of shame … he hadn't exactly used that phrase but had explained his mother's propensity to arrive home in the early hours and somewhat tired due to her work … he hadn't wanted to add the fact that sometimes she enjoyed a few too many drinks … he would be able to turn the alarm off or on from his bedroom. Passwords were communicated to the company's head office and the operational instructions explained both to Rick and Alexis.

He's quite happy to see them leave, though once alone with Alexis he begins feel observed, the sensation not improving whenever he looks up and sees one of the red blinking leds on the movement sensors ... yeah, ok they're not actually on yet, but he still feels uncomfortable.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Chapter 8_**

From the rooftop across Broom, the watcher grins. She has been observing the installation of the new security features as darkness gathers. The typical bolting of the stable door long after the horse has reached the neighbouring county. She knows the company, knows their systems and can bypass them blindfolded. Not that she intends to do a repeat performance, she's just curious.

The curtains to the sitting room have not yet been drawn closed and when the workmen have left, she can observe the interaction of father and daughter through her binoculars. She's not a peeping tom, but even when it's time for her to leave, she can't resist watching the two of them on the couch, snuggling up together whilst they watch something on the TV. He gets up and she follows him with the glasses, waiting for him to appear in the kitchen window. She can make him out as he opens the fridge door, pulls some stuff out and places it out of sight, probably on the kitchen island she'd noticed the other night. Then he's closing the fridge door and heading back to the couch, placing a large bowl of something on the coffee table and straightening up.

With a gasp she ducks down, biting her lip, trying to get her breathing under control. She knows it's stupid, there is no way she would be visible to him from her observation point, but for a second, as he stood straight, she could have sworn he was staring right at her, the blue eyes piercing straight to her soul.

With a half gasping laugh she dismisses the fanciful idea and makes her way to the fire escape before dropping down to street level and walking over to where she left her bike. It takes her less than ten minutes to get home tonight, the streets are quiet and she feels like a phantom riding down deserted streets. Reaching her apartment she prepares a quick meal of beef strips in oyster sauce, enjoys a glass of wine as she watches the Late Night Show and soon after finds herself in bed, her mind going over the last couple of days and trying to figure out for the hundredth time what it all means.

The alarm wakes her and she slaps the snooze button, giving herself a few more minutes to pull herself together, to enjoy a few moments of warmth and to recapture the sensation of a pleasant dream which unfortunately she can't recall, but has left her feeling warm and fuzzy. When the alarm goes off the second time she opens her eyes to a steely dawn and the reality of work. She turns the alarm off, gets out of bed and heads for the bathroom, the need for a pee uppermost in her mind.

By six o'clock she's astride her Harley and heading for work, the autumn day looking to be cold and miserable, the pinched faces of early morning pedestrians a reminder that summer is no longer with them. Six-fifteen and she's parking the bike outside University Messenger Services at nº 46, University Place, waving to Corrine behind reception and with fifteen minutes still to go before she has to sign in heading for Bagel Bob's and a morning coffee.

By mid-day she's done a dozen runs, mostly small packages or legal documents being sent to and from law firms, financial companies or businesses dealing with these. She tells Corrine that she's just going to grab something to eat and pops into the Epicurean, a small bistro a few doors down and orders an onion soup followed by a dish of couscous.

She's hardly stepped back inside the office when Corrine calls her over "_Special delivery, you need to wait for them to be signed and then take them on to the second address_"

Kate nods, checks the first address she has to reach as she heads out to her bike, slips on her helmet, turns the key and moves into the traffic heading towards the Bowery. Reaching the first of the destinations she looks around her. The building is tall and narrow, a new construction that has probably recently replaced one of the older ones, its neighbour on the corner is an old brownstone, one floor higher than the one she is heading for, on the other side is a large nineties built office block, in turn one floor less than the new build. Access from either side would not be difficult, other considerations aside.

There's a security guard in reception and he calls up before allowing her further inside. With permission granted he accompanies her as far as the lift doors ogling her and making no attempt to hide it. She ignores him completely, punches the button to the topmost floor and watches as the numbers climb until the lift pings on reaching the seventh floor. The doors slide open onto an elegant vestibule, all marble and antique furniture where a maid is waiting for her and indicates she should follow.

Kate follows the maid past a Jacobean cabinet holding a display of silver pieces, from small nutmeg graters and vesta boxes to teapots and trays. The maid opens the second door on the right and ushers her in before closing the door behind her. The room she is in is elegant, modern furniture, coffee coloured walls, beige hangings, thick wall to wall carpeting, expensive modern art on the walls, a display cabinet containing what looks from where she is standing like a collection of jade figures. The windows are casement, double glazed and what looks like security glass through which she can see the sign for Bertoni's Bakery across the street. The windows are wired and movement sensors are in each corner …

"_I believe you have something for me?_"

She turns, finds an elderly man sitting at a desk near the back wall, a look of expectation on his face, she nods, "_I'm sorry sir, I thought the room so lovely, it distracted me_" as she moves towards the desk, her best smile in place.

He gives a sort of ducking nod, pleased with her reaction, "_My wife's touch_" holding his hand out to take the envelope from her. He opens the flap, pulls out the three sheets of paper it contains and spends the next few minutes reading through them. Kate meanwhile turns her body slightly away, offering him privacy and allowing her eyes to check out the rest of the security installation. She's worked out the location of the junction box by the time she hears the scratching of a fountain pen on paper, turning back as he sets the pen down, carefully folds the sheets and places them back inside the envelope before peeling the protective strip off and pressing the flap down to seal it. He hands the envelope back to her and with a nod of her head she turns back to the door which swings open just as she's about to reach out for the door knob.

The maid ushers her through, closes the door and leads her back to the lift, giving her a chance to check out the security installation on the way. The maid waits till she has stepped in and the doors have closed, obviously visitors are not to be allowed to wonder around on their own. Makes it all the more interesting, she smiles to herself.

* * *

_**AN: Given that I may not have time to post tomorrow, next chapter going up today ...** _


	9. Chapter 9

**_Chapter 9_**

Castle has had a somewhat frustrating day. He'd expected a bit more collaboration from his fellow burglary victims, but several have refused to even talk to him saying only that they've already told the police everything. Two of them are away and he will have to go back another day if he wants to talk to them. From the other five victims he has been unable to gain any further insight, only confirmation of what was in the police reports.

Now, back in the loft, he's taking his frustration out on eggs he's whisking for an omelette. As Martha comes down the steps she shakes her head, "_Richard darling, when you've done murdering those eggs, could you find me some paper clips?_"

Castle pauses with the whisking and scowls at his mother "_Have you lost your keys again?_"

"_Really, Richard, kill someone once and you're a murderer for life! As it happens, no, I have some paperwork I need to organise_"

Resuming with his whisking he nods towards the study, "_Top, left-hand drawer in the desk_"

A few minutes later and Martha is walking out of the study, a puzzled look on her face as she studies her son. "_Tell me kiddo, what are you doing with a picture of that messenger in your office?_"

It is several heartbeats before his mother's words filter through the clicking of the whisk in the bowl and when they do he almost drops the whole lot. Martha, seeing the startled look on his face shakes her head again "_Close your mouth, dear_"

"_What did you just say? ... not now ... earlier, about the messenger?_"

An exasperated Martha sighs, sits on the edge of the stool by the kitchen island and says "_I asked you what were you doing with the picture of that lovely messenger_"

Castle, butterflies playing havoc with his insides, brain still not quite grasping how his mother could know their intruder, moves round the island grabs her arm and almost marches her into the study, "_Do you mean to tell me you know who that is?_" he asks pointing to the police sketch on the easel.

"_Well, not exactly, I mean I don't know her name, but she bears an extraordinary resemblance to the messenger who brought the contract round last week for the studio lease_"

"_The studio lease, do you know what company she works for?_"

"_Um, no, the contract was sent by the owner's lawyers for me to look at and discuss with my own lawyer before we meet next week ... why?_"

"_Do you know what the lawyers are called, the ones who sent you the contract?_"

"_Richard dear, how am I supposed to remember that, I probably have some paper somewhere with their name on it ... but ... oh just a minute I remember now ... it was Jacobs and Millets ... no, no ... Jacobs and Millens! That's it!_"

"_Mother, you're a genius!_" and with that he pulls his phone from his pocket and heads for his bedroom, leaving a somewhat bewildered Martha staring after him.

Information supplies him with the number for Jacobs & Millens, Attorneys at Law and he's soon speaking to a secretary.

"_Yes hello, I was wondering if you could help me, last week you're office sent a document to my mother, Martha Rodgers, it was a contract for the lease on a property. The paperwork was delivered by messenger service and I was wondering if you could give me the name and address of the company?_"

"_Was there a problem with the service Mister Rodgers?_"

"_Oh, no ... no, it was excellent, she was very satisfied with it and I was thinking of using them myself!_"

"_Well I'm glad to hear that Mister Rodgers, hold on a moment, let's see … that would have been UMS … that is University Messenger Services, their offices are at 46, University Place, would you like their phone number as well?_"

Profusely thanking her, Rick eventually hangs up, it's too late for anything today, but tomorrow he hopes he will have the first tangible evidence of her existence. Now with something concrete to get his teeth into, he sits at his desk, turns on the laptop and within minutes is adding to the basic outline of the story, the new information giving him a new angle to work on. Minutes become hours, his mind jumping from idea to idea, from possible to impossible, from a beginning to an ending. He is unaware of his mother and daughter dumping the thoroughly defeated eggs down the sink and starting anew, he does not hear the door to his study opening and silently closing again as Alexis, aware of how difficult he has found it to write over the last months is glad that he suddenly seems to have found inspiration.

It is almost three in the morning when, stiff from prolonged sitting in the same position, hands tired from the sudden burst of recently forgotten exercise, Castle saves his work, turns off the computer and with a stretch of creaking muscles, stumbles into the bedroom and crawls into bed.

He spends a restless night, his imagination playing out a hundred different scenarios for the following day. Yet by eight o'clock he's wide awake, excitement building as he shaves, showers and gets himself some breakfast.

Grabbing a cab he directs it to the address supplied by the lawyers' secretary the day before, but as a precaution he gives the address as number forty, not wanting to find himself stepping out of the cab and straight into his mystery messenger. Some fifteen minutes later he finds himself at the address, but unfortunately the street is limited parking. He tells the taxi driver to continue to the next block, and as they drive past he locates the UMS premises. They're located between Bagel Bob's and the Zeeman Wine & Liqueurs. Right on the corner of the next block is Amorino's Coffee Shop, and he reckons he can get a good view of the University Messenger Services from there. He pays off the taxi, walks in to the coffee shop and chooses a table by the window. His view of the UMS offices is occasionally obstructed by passing trucks and vans, but otherwise he has a good position.

He's three coffees and a muffin down and is getting some strange looks from the staff, but still no sign of his mysterious woman. He's thinking of going to the toilets when the rumble of a Harley passing the window draws his attention. The Harley turns onto University Place and pulls up outside the UMS offices. He's about to get up when the rider removes her helmet and turns her head to look at something on the bike. He freezes, hands on the table, elbows bent, body half standing ... it's her, there is no doubt ... a van trundles past the window, obscuring his view, he drops back into his seat and waits for it to move on once the traffic lights change. By the time he can see the offices again, the bike is standing on its own, the rider nowhere in sight. He pulls his phone and takes a snap of the bike for future identification.

* * *

**_AN: Thanks for the reviews and follows, will get round to thanking you personally soon._**


	10. Chapter 10

**_Chapter 10_**

Twenty minutes, one quick toilet call and a coffee later, he sees her come back out, package under her arm, helmet swinging from her hand. She slips the package into one of the saddlebags, straddles her bike, pulls her helmet on and is soon slipping out into the stream of traffic.

He gets up quickly, pays and leaves the coffee shop, crosses the street and steps into A & G Sports where he buys a UNY baseball cap before walking down past Bagel Bob's and pausing to look at the opening times on the UMS office doors. Pulling the cap's peak well down, he enters and gives the young girl behind the counter a watered down version of the patented Castle smile before asking for a business card. Thanking her he leaves and walks to the corner before hailing a cab.

As he heads home he does some quick calculations. The opening hours on the door had stated 6:30 am till 10:30pm. That means at least two shifts. Assuming she has been there from early in the morning, her present shift should end in about two hour's time, which will give him just enough time to head home and organise some transport.

Back at the loft he prepares himself a quick lunch, leaves a note for Alexis for when she returns from school in case he's still out and then calls Crown Cars, his usual limo service. He hadn't been able to resist using them the first time, over three years ago, when he'd seen the name. He arranges with them to pick him up in forty minutes using their most discreet vehicle, and though he thinks a Cadillac Escalade is not exactly discreet, it _is_ better than one of the limos or sedans they run.

By two o'clock they've been round the block a couple of times before they find a parking space on East 9th, just round the corner from the UMS office. Rick steps out of the SUV leaving Simon, the chauffer, with precise instructions, before crossing the intersection and heading up University Place on the other side to the office. He can see her Harley is once again parked up and pauses, back to the bike, pretending to look into the furniture shop's window. He pulls his phone and discreetly takes a shot of the bike, trying to get the plates, before moving on and taking a table at Amorino's once again.

He's hoping his well-worn jeans, a loose T-shirt and Airstream sweatshirt, along with his old Knicks cap means he won't be recognised from earlier in the day. He orders a coffee and pays for it before checking the picture on the phone. The angle's a bit crap but the bike's number shows up clearly. He may need to have Javi or Kevin trace it, but he's hoping that won't be necessary. At two thirty on the dot, he sees her make her way out of the office, waving back at whoever is inside. He's immediately on the phone to Simon before leaving a tip on the table and heading out onto the street corner. He sees the SUV coming round the corner at the far end of the street even as she's slinging her leg over the bike. He crosses the intersection staying on the opposite side of the street and keeps the SUV between himself and her as she slips her helmet on. Climbing aboard he tells Simon to keep the Harley in sight but not crowd it. His research and time with both the CIA and the NYPD had given him plenty of theory on the art of trailing a vehicle, now it is up to him to put it into practice.

The traffic isn't too heavy, allowing them to keep the bike in sight as she turns right onto East 10th and then again as she heads southwest down Broadway. Here the traffic is heavier and they have a couple of moments especially when the traffic lights go against them. Simon's experienced driving and possibly the Escalade's bulk allow them to nudge their way through the traffic when necessary to keep the bike in sight.

About twelve minutes later they see the bike turn right again into Prince St. The lights hold them up at the intersection and by the time they've followed, she's no longer in sight. They travel down Prince with Simon checking streets to the left and Castle those to the right. As they cross the second intersection Rick thinks he sees something. With a bit of angry honking from behind, Simon manages to back up sufficient to make the turn and drive down the cobbled surface of Greene Street.

Sure enough, they spot the bike parked to one side. Rick checks that it's the right plates, Simon slowing down slightly and then speeding back up again. Rick gets him to pull over towards the end of the street. They adjust mirrors so that both of them can keep an eye on the bike. Rick can feel Simon's curiosity consuming him, but the driver knows better than to ask.

They sit there for over an hour. The bike remains unattended during that time. It's possible she's visiting friends or family, working at a second job or busting a property, but Rick reckons that after a full shift at work her most likely destination would be home. He believes she must live somewhere within walking distance of this spot and after a further half hour he calls it a day, telling Simon to drop him off home and thanking him for his services.

He spends the rest of the afternoon working on the text he'd hammered out the night before, correcting and changing, adding new ideas and making a list of names for the characters in the story, or at least for the principal ones. Alexis arrives from school, pops her head in through the door to let him know of her arrival and then heads upstairs to do her homework. During dinner he checks that his mother will be in for the evening, explaining that he will be out all night researching his new idea. Both mother and daughter regard him with some scepticism but let it go.

At ten o'clock he heads down to the building's garage, throws a small holdall onto the front seat and climbs into his Malibu. Not long after he's parked in Greene Street, about a dozen spaces back and on the opposite side of the street, the bike just visible through the windows of a parked saloon. Lowering the seat back a little he settles down to observe ... this was either going to be an extremely long and boring night, or an interesting one.

It's the sound of a bike kicking into life that wakes him. He feels stiff and cold, and by the time he's realised where he is and why, the Harley is disappearing down the street. Looking at his watch he sees it's a couple of minutes after six, the cold, early morning light only just making its presence felt.

He straightens the seat, pulls out and without undue haste heads for University Place. Driving past the UMS office he confirms that the Harley is indeed parked outside and heads back to his loft, a few hours in a decent bed and a shower right now his only desires.

* * *

_**AN: Lol, I know you're probably all cursing me for not getting them to meet yet ... but honestly, I want a specific scenario for it, and the next two chapters will bring them into that situation ... and for those who wish I'd just get on with it, I'm taking a page out of Marlowe's book ... keep 'em on tenterhooks and frustrated!  
**_


	11. Chapter 11

**_Chapter 11_**

Her shift finished for the day, Kate waves to Corrine, slips her helmet on and lets the rumble of the Harley sooth her nerves on the way home. Its three days since she visited the building in the Bowery, and it's over a week since her foiled attempt at what she had assumed was the Rodgers household but had turned out to be the Castle loft.

The next payment is due and she needs to hit a target. She always scouts out, gets an idea of routines and patterns, but tonight she's going to have to go in blind. She hates going in without preparation but unless she can come up with the money it will be another month's delay. And she's getting so close, she can feel it in her bones, a few more bits of information and she should have enough to piece it all together, or at least have some decent leads.

As soon as she's home she strips and changes into her yoga outfit. For the next forty minutes she goes through her routine; stretching and breathing exercises until she feels herself ready for her graveyard shift excursion. She takes a shower, slaking off the day's grime and the perspiration from her workout. After that she gets herself a simple dish of pasta with just a touch of onion, tomato and a drizzle of olive oil. It will give her energy for later on whilst being light on her system. Then she draws the curtains and climbs into bed, her last thoughts before sleep takes her down involve a cut out figure that comes to life and makes her breath catch in her throat.

She awakes to the darkened room, yawns and stretches before glancing at the luminescent clock on the night stand. 1:57 am it tells her, she slips her legs off the bed and goes into the bathroom to brush her teeth and freshen up, she grins at her reflection in the mirror, always have fresh breath when on a job.

She heads to the kitchen and grabs a bottle of water before entering the sitting room and switching on the TV; another of her foibles, always make sure you're well hydrated before going out on a job. She checks the news channels, making sure nothing unusual is going down in the Bowery district. Once she'd headed straight into an area saturated with police and firefighters when she hadn't heard of a fire only two streets from her intended target. Now she always made sure to check beforehand.

She goes through her sports bag, transferring the required items into the backpack. Tonight it's all about short vertical climbs, so she won't need the grapple launcher or the auto-reel. She fills the small spray bottle with water and carefully inserts the nitrogen canister into the padded pocket of the backpack. Once everything has been checked, she places the sports bag back at the bottom of the closet and picks up the backpack.

She pulls up a couple of streets away from the building, running the bike up onto the pavement and parking it in a dark area under a fire escape and a few feet from a dumpster. She attaches the helmet with the helmet lock, pulls her boots off and slips them into the saddle bag before extracting her climbing shoes and a baseball cap. Slipping her shoes on she then tucks her hair up inside the cap before taking a careful look around and walking away down the street.

She walks past the front of the building, noting the security guard's head showing above the desk. He doesn't look to be very alert, but she doesn't hang around to check him out. She crosses the street, continues along the pavement checking the office block next door from the opposite pavement. There are no lights on in the building, so she continues round the side and observes the fire escape. She spends ten minutes crouched against the wall, listening to the sounds, gauging the traffic. Then she's up the escape and standing on the last level. A quick check and the grappling hook is sailing over the parapet above her, its rubberised prongs barely making any noise. She pulls the line in slowly until she feels it catch. A couple of tugs and then her full wright and the hook's firmly secured. It barely takes her a few minutes to climb the brickwork onto the roof.

She pauses, checks her surroundings. The street lights below lend a glow to the cold night air which increases the sense of darkness on the roof. She keeps to the edge, body crouched below the parapet and makes her way along the front till she's reached the wall of the next-door building. Again the grappling hook comes into play, a smooth swing of the arm and the hook lands with a gentle thud on the roof above.

She pulls it tight, lets her weight rest on the climbing rope a moment before pulling herself up. Reaching the top she stretches her hand out, hooks her fingers on the ledge and soon has her other hand beside it. She pulls herself up and swings a leg over until she's straddling the low parapet. She releases the grappling hook and loops a length of rope around a protruding piece of stonework. On one of her first jobs she'd left the hook in place and on leaving had been unable to release it. Now she always made sure it will be easy to release or substitutes it with a piece of rope.

She walks round the rooftop, leaning over the front parapet and checking the building below her. It only takes her a few minutes to set up her ropes and ascenders. Soon she's climbing down the front of the building and is hanging in space outside the darkened window with the Bertoni's Bakery sign over her shoulder. The suction pad adheres to the glass and the cutter makes a slight fingernail-on-blackboard noise, barely perceptible even to her as she makes the circular cut in the pane. She gives it a firm tap and pulls the suction pad away, dropping the circle of cut glass into a pouch. The next item she removes is the small spray bottle containing water which she holds near the hole and sprays into the cavity of the double glazing, making sure the panes are well soaked. Carefully she swaps the water spray for the canister of liquid nitrogen which she then squirts into the cavity. Within seconds both panes of glass have cracked and quartered into minute pieces turning the glass opaque and brittle as egg shells and only just holding together.

She swaps the nitrogen cylinder for a can of spray-on liquid latex with which she covers the outer pane of glass. She gives it a few moments to solidify and then gently taps it before pulling from one corner. The shattered glass peels away with the latex and she carefully rolls it up. Another layer of latex on the inner pane and that soon joins the first one. Now she has an opening wide enough for her to slide through and into the room.

She stays close to the wall, remembering the locations of the movement sensors from her previous visit. There were four, each set in a corner of the room pointing towards its centre; totally useless if you were already in the room and against a wall. Dropping to her stomach she quickly moves towards one of the corners, keeping close to the wall. Once underneath the sensor she stands up, removes the liquid latex spray from her pouch and squirts some over the lens. It doesn't take her long to disable the remaining sensors and soon she's depositing the circle of glass and latex encased glass shards under one of the cabinets. There is no point in carting the stuff away with her. All the products she uses are bought in small quantities over the Internet and from out of state using a false ID and a drop box. Any connection to her would be irrelevant.

* * *

**_AN: I have no idea if any of the above methods would actually work as I never majored (or minored) in B&E. L_**_**iquid (Spray-on) latex and silicone are used in the aircraft and sports car industry amongst others (to seal carbon fibre elements before placing them in the autoclave ... type of oven), also **_**_I have read that liquid nitrogen can crack wet glass (in the bar trade), but as this is a fic, I hope you'll just go with it. _**


	12. Chapter 12

**_Chapter 12  
_**

The room is in semi darkness, the glow from the street offering enough light to make out the furniture but not the details. Switching on her pencil torch, she checks the cabinet holding the jade figures, there is no wiring, no extra security, the room's security obviously considered sufficient. Opening the cabinet she picks up several of the pieces, one at a time and examines them. They look to be well-made and probably valuable pieces, though she's no expert. For the moment she leaves them in place, the jade is heavy and could be easily damaged.

She moves to the Richard Scott hanging on the wall, a quick check for wires or sensors, of which she finds none. Taking the picture down, she removes the frame and unpins the canvas from the frame. She rolls it up and slides it into one of the collapsible tubes in her backpack. The Sarah Goncarova one follows the Scott into a second tube but she ignores the Brian Reed sculpture, it's too big and bulky.

She reaches the door through which she entered three days ago, slowly twists the handle and cracks it open. There is a soft lighting coming from the wall brackets at the far end of the hall by the lift, though the rest of the place seems to be in darkness. She closes her eyes for a moment, remembering the layout of the hall. There was a Jacobean glass fronted cabinet against the wall halfway between this door and the movement sensor to the left of the lift, as long as she keeps close to the wall the cabinet will screen her from the sensor. There had been another glass display cabinet to the right of the door, but she hadn't been able to discern what security measures were installed further along the hallway.

She slips out into the hall, leaving the door open and keeping close to the wall. Reaching the glass cabinet she switches on the pencil torch and shines it through the side. There are a number of books lying open on the bottom of the two shelves, they look like first editions and her heartbeat quickens ... books have always held a special place in her heart. Perhaps it's that that makes her miss the lift doors sliding open at the far end of the hallway or the quietly approaching figure dressed in jeans and black leather jacket.

A barely perceptible scuff of shoe on carpet, a change of air pressure, a glint of reflection in the glass, a well-developed sixth sense ... whatever, something makes her turn her head just in time to see the heavy figure launching himself at her. She twists and ducks, not enough to avoid being knocked backwards into the cabinet, but enough for most of the man's weight to hit her on the shoulder rather than the back.

Both bodies crash into the cabinet, toppling it over and sending it crashing to the floor to shatter into myriad pieces, its contents scattering across the hallway. She feels a sharp pain in her back, a numbing sensation at her shoulder as her assailant's weigh traps it and grinds it into whatever is underneath.

His hands are reaching for her neck but she manages to slap his arms aside, blocks his next punch aimed at her head and has suddenly got purchase with her feet against the wall. She bucks, throws his weight off her even as more pain slices into her back and she strikes out with the edge of her hand. It catches him on the side of the neck, not enough to stop him, but it slows him down momentarily, eyes opening in surprise. It's not much, but it's enough for her to roll away and stumble to her feet. Her assailant is also climbing to his feet, hand held to his neck where her blow had landed, head shaking and eyes slightly unfocused.

It's not much of an opening but it's her only chance, he'll soon overpower her if she doesn't get out of here in the next few minutes. She swings low, brings her right leg up tight against her buttocks and kicks out with all her strength. The kick lands on his femoral nerve point and he lets out a hiss as his leg involuntarily straightens out, the paralysing blow resulting in a terrible burning sensation in his outer thigh.

Knowing she only has a few minutes, Kate runs for the room she entered through, grabs the backpack with the paintings and slips out the window. She finds it difficult to make her way up the rope even with the ascenders. The pain in her back and her mauled shoulder not helping at all, especially when she has to use her right arm, but adrenaline is coursing through her veins and she makes it to the roof.

She has to pause a moment when she reaches the roof to get her breath back, before hauling up the rope and attached climbing aids and dropping them over the parapet onto the roof of the office building next door. She can hear the commotion below now and even thinks she can make out a distant police siren, though it may not be coming this way.

Taking a deep breath, she drops over the side, grabs the rope and slides down to the next building's roof, almost losing her grip on the rope and falling the last few feet. Pulling the rope down after her, she stuffs both it and the items she'd dropped earlier into the backpack, careful to not crush the tubes containing the paintings. Its only then she realises she's lost her cap, probably back in the hallway during the fight. Would the police be able to get DNA off it? Probably. Shit! As far as she knows, her DNA isn't in any data banks, but her mother's could be. Dammitt to hell, why hadn't she scouted the place out like she always does.

With a frustrated groan she moves, crouched, along the roof top till she's at the opposite end of the building. A quick check of the fire escape and she's dropping down onto it, hissing in pain as back and shoulder absorb the landing. She can hear police sirens now, and they are definitely heading in this direction. She has to get out of the area now!

As soon as she's reached ground level, she slings the backpack over her good shoulder, ready to fling it and its incriminating evidence under a car if the need arises. She's not feeling too good now that the adrenalin is wearing off, but she really needs to get back to her bike and get the hell out of here.


	13. Chapter 13

**_Chapter 13  
_**

He's spent most of the time on his phone, playing Angry Birds, tweeting, messaging his daughter, dodging angry calls from Paula, more Angry Birds … he has to grin at the unintentional allegory. Eventually he settles back, closes his eyes and tries to get some rest.

He doesn't know what it is that made him open his eyes, he isn't even sure if he's been asleep or not, but something has woken him up, or at least stirred him to consciousness. Then he sees her through the windscreen, the streetlights glinting on her helmet as she slips it on. He sits up straight, pulls the seat back up into its correct position and checks the time.

2:40 am, much too early for work, she could of course be going to some night club, but he's excited now, maybe he's finally going to get his break. He waits till she's almost at the end of the street before turning on the ignition whilst keeping the car lights off. As soon as he sees her swing right at the intersection he pulls out, switching on the lights and heading as fast as is prudent to the intersection.

He can make out the single tail light in the distance and follows it, speeding up as soon as she's turned out of sight and slowing down again when he's on the same stretch as her, keeping at least a block or two between them.

He recognises the area as the Bowery and it's after she's taken a couple of turns that he realises he's lost her. Shit! He drives around slowly, hand hammering in frustration on the steering wheel as he looks for her bike. Maybe she made him and is now heading up to Alphabet City or the Flatiron District, laughing into the night at his path...

It's the flash of a passing taxi's headlights on a darkened area of pavement that catches his attention. He slows down. There's little traffic at this time of night and in this area, so he reverses slowly to where he thinks he's seen something. He puts the warning light on, climbs out of the car and heads across the street to the dark area under a fire escape. He leans down, checks the plates and almost lets out a cry of satisfaction. It's hers.

He heads back to the car and looks for somewhere to pull in. There's a side street a bit further along, but it's one-way and no good to him. A bit further along he finds a space. It's a squeeze but he manages to park the car. Adjusting the wing mirror he can make out the area where the bike's parked, he can't see the bike but he will be able to see her pull out onto the road and if she heads this way he'll be able to pull out and follow her, if she heads back the other way he should have enough space to turn right round and try to catch her up. He climbs out of the car and looks around him. Nearly everywhere is dark, few lights on anywhere. Most of this area is composed of small businesses whose owners and staff would be in bed and asleep at this time. The chill gets to him and so he climbs back into the car, restlessly adjusting rear-view mirror to increase his field of view.

He's been there for over an hour, wondering if he's got it right, maybe she's visiting a boyfriend? Maybe she's working night shifts somewhere ... its then he hears the first of the sirens in the distance. Several minutes later a patrol car comes past him, turns right at the next intersection and he can hear the wailing of its siren winding down as it pulls up probably no more than a block or two away. He sits up. Maybe it has something to do with her, maybe not.

He's thinking of climbing out of the car and having a peek round the corner when his attention is drawn two ways at once. He's picked up a second patrol car in the wing mirror, crawling slowly along and heading his way. At the same time he's spotted a figure walking towards him along the pavement. He's not too sure, but height, shape and haircut look familiar, and whoever it is seems to be clinging to the wall every few steps. His eyes flicker between the slowly approaching police car behind and the even slower approach of the figure from in front. Another few minutes and both will meet.

As she draws level with the car he leans over, grabs the handle of the passenger door and pushes it open, "_Get in, quick!_"

She startles, almost jumps back before shock registers on her face as she takes him in. There's a look of panic on her face, then she's looking over the top of the cars behind his at the approaching red and blue lights. She looks over her shoulder, obviously considering heading back in the direction she's come from.

He wants to yell at her, tell her to get in, but he thinks any sudden noise and she'll bolt. She must have come to a decision, because suddenly she's moving, sliding into the seat beside him and pulling the door closed without slamming it. He's staring at her, taking in the features that are both so familiar yet different, her eyes are larger in her face than he remembers, there's a pinched look of pain about her eyes and mouth he doesn't remember. She's staring at him, her body squeezed back against the door, trying to put as much space as possible between them in the confined space of his car.

The patrol car drives slowly past, advances just beyond the car ahead before the brake lights come on and then it slowly reverses back. He leans across, grabs her arm and pulls her towards him, ignoring her almost panicked look he whispers urgently "_Just go with it!_"

His hand slides up her arm, settles round the back of her neck and he pulls her head towards him. He can feel her tensing up, can feel her taking in a lungful of air prior to screaming or yelling at him, her eyes dark pools of anger and fear. Then suddenly she must realise what he's doing. Her forehead comes to rest against his, her eyes slam closed and the hiccup in her breath tells him she's not going to scream, at least not yet.

The interior of the car is suddenly bathed in white light as the cops train the wing-mounted spotlight at them. They both try to ignore it, he cups her face with his hand, using it to cover her features whilst trying to make it look like he's stroking her cheeks and running his hand through her hair, which come to think of it, he is!

He can feel her tensed up, ready to run, then thankfully the light is turned off and they can hear the patrol car continue on it way. They remain unmoving for several minutes, he staring at the face just inches away from his own, she, eyes closed, breath held, immobile and seemingly frozen in time and place ...


	14. Chapter 14

**_Chapter 14_**

She sits there, eyes closed, waiting for him move away, to release her so that she can fade away into the darkness. She doesn't know what's happened, how or why he's waiting here in the car or what makes him shelter her from the police. She had supposed he was playing cat and mouse, especially when the unit had reversed back towards them … expecting any moment to have him turn to them and say _Yes, it's her Officer_ or words to that effect. He hadn't. In fact he's done his best to hide her from them. She needs to get away, she's hurt and unable to think clearly but she does know she can't risk staying here.

She feels him pull back, hears him settle back in his seat, the warmth from the closeness of his body that had strangely comforted her no longer there. She opens her eyes and sees him watching her, face inscrutable though there's nothing menacing either in his posture or expression.

She nods at him, mumbles a "_Thanks"_ which she knows isn't enough but is all she's willing to offer right now, before turning to swing the door open. She's not sure what happens next, but the combination of her twisting round to climb out of the car, his grabbing at her arm to stop her, the cold night air … there is a shooting pain through her lower back and she suddenly feels sick and giddy, stumbling to her knees on the pavement as she hangs onto the door to keep herself upright.

A gasp from behind her has her twisting her head to look back at him. He's staring down at his hand which he's holding in the empty space between them. He flicks the roof light on and they both stare at the red covering his fingers, it's enough to worry them both. He turns the light off, checks the mirrors and is soon out of the car and moving around to her side. She's still on her knees holding onto the door and unable to think of what to do next. There is no way she can ride her bike in her present state, it's probably just shock, but her shoulder feels like it's been mauled in a mangler and she's obviously done something to her back.

She stares at him hopelessly and in fear as he crouches down next to her. "_Ok, let's get you into the car and to a hospital …_"

"_No! No hospital!_" it's a half command, half begging tone in her voice. No doctor would believe her injuries came from a domestic accident; they'd be bound to call, or at least inform the cops. Her blood would be traced to the scene and along with the cap she's lost and it wouldn't take them long to put two and two together. She needs to get away … why the hell won't her legs obey her?

"_Ok, no hospital just yet, but we need to have a look at that and this isn't the place, come on, let me help you get back into the car_"

She doesn't understand why she lets him, why she doesn't just tell him to go take a running jump … well maybe she does, but she doesn't want to think about that just now, so she lets him help her back into the seat of the car. His foot kicks something and looking down he sees a backpack half under the car. Assuming it's hers, he picks it up and places it on the floor by her feet before leaning in to buckle her up. For a moment, before straightening up he looks at her. She has her eyes closed, head back against the headrest and her hands fisted in her lap. His lips twitch at her stubbornness, but he straightens up, closes the door and returns to the driver's seat.

She opens her eyes as the car dips its nose downwards and she finds herself being driven into an underground car park. For a few seconds she's disorientated, panic welling up, then she sees him at the wheel and tamps it down. She's not too clear on how she's reached this place, not just the geographical one but the sitting in a car with Richard Castle … but right now she's in too much bother to worry about it.

He's helping her out of the car, steadying her with a supporting hand under her arm and leading her towards the lift. She leans her good shoulder against the side of the cabin, making sure to keep her injured side away from it. He's looking at her, a look of concern in his eyes which she can't understand, she notices him leaning round to look at her back now that the lighting allows him to see something. He tries to keep his face expressionless but he's not very good at it. She bites her lip, not just because of the stinging sensation every time she moves, but also because he's behaving like a concerned friend … not someone she's stolen from.

As they approach his front door he tells her "_My mother and daughter live here, but I'd like to keep them out of this for the moment ok?_"

She nods, unsure what he's aiming at here, but mentally identifying his mother as the occupant of the room she'd found the jewellery case in and remembering the girl in the bed of the second bedroom she'd entered.

He pushes the door open and indicates she should precede him. She walks in and looks around. She recognises it from her previous nocturnal visit, but as he moves around turning on some lights she's able to take in the details previously lost to her.

He stands there observing her as she slowly turns her head to look around her. She's magnificent in spite of her somewhat battered appearance. The short auburn hair cut close to her head highlights her high cheekbones, the soft curve of her lips and those incredible eyes which he is now able to observe are neither hazel nor green, or rather a mix of both. Her slim figure is encased in a tight-fitting dark blue polo neck under a short black leather jacket and leg-hugging navy blue pants. She has climbing shoes on her feet and a glare in her eyes so he hastily points towards the office "_Maybe we should go in there in case anyone comes downstairs …_" he suggests, tentatively taking hold of her arm and leading her there..

Once in the study he throws "_I'll just go get the first aid kit_" over his shoulder, turning on the desk lamp and disappearing through the door he'd appeared from the last time she was here. She can make out the bed in the next room and her eyebrow arches. He'd best not be getting any ideas. She can hear him opening cupboards or drawers somewhere beyond the bedroom and turns to look around her, suddenly standing stock still, eyes wide as she notices it.


	15. Chapter 15

**_Chapter 15_**

He enters from the bedroom behind her and pauses as he sees her standing deathly still, staring at the easel with the police sketch of her. She turns slowly to face him, eyes both puzzled and afraid. This guy does not have poor observation skills as she'd thought when she'd seen the printed version of the artist's sketch; on the contrary, he has her down to a T. So why hasn't she been identified and arrested? Is he some sort of weirdo? A crazy stalker? Looking at him standing in the doorway, first aid box in hand and a concerned look on his face, she doesn't think so, but she's not going to let her barriers down either.

He points to her with the hand holding the box, "_I think we'd better have a look at that don't you?_"

She goes for a shrug and grimaces in pain, momentarily having forgotten about her injuries. He places the med kit on the desk and slowly helps her out of her jacket. Its only when she sees the cuts and dark stains on the back that she realises why she's feeling as rough as she is. He gently turns her so her back's to the light and she can hear his breathing pause as he considers how to go about it. The whole of the back and side of the top is stained dark, threads protruding from the cut and damaged fibres and she hisses as he tries to gently lift the material. He turns to the med kit and removes a pair of scissors, too small really for what he needs to do, but subconsciously his going for minimal threat, and a pair of large kitchen scissors could easily spook her.

He moves round in front of her and lifts the scissors into view. "_I'm no expert, but I think we're going to have to cut this off …?_" pointing with them to her top.

She glares at him, but remembering the state of her jacket just nods and tries to twist her head round to watch him as he moves back behind her. She hears the snip, snip as the scissors make their way up her top, feels the cool air against the skin of her back as he struggles a bit with the thick folds of the neckline … he pauses, "_Uhm, just a moment_ .." and he drops the scissors onto the desk before disappearing back into the bedroom. She watches him re-emerge a few moments later with a T-shirt in his hands and a slightly embarrassed look on his face.

"_You may want this .. later ... when we get that off .._." and she has to hide a smile at his concern for her modesty; she really can't get a handle on him!

He's back to snipping at the neckline and eventually she feels the two halves separate. She can feel his hands on her right lower back, trying to ease the top away from the cuts, but the partially congealed blood and threads pull at the skin and she draws in a sharp breath. He apologises and she shakes her head, telling him he doesn't need to.

"_I'll go get some warm water, it should help to_ …" and he waves his hands half-heartedly as his words peter out "... _you'd better sit down before you fall down_" he adds pointing to one of the chairs.

When he returns a few moment later with a plastic basin of warm water and a sponge she's still standing, though she's now supporting herself by leaning both hands on the desk, the left hand side of her top hanging down and revealing an expanse of smooth skin and softly ridged ribcage intersected by the strap of her bra. Turning on a few more lights he moves to stand behind her and begins to gently apply the water with the sponge to the right side of her back. It takes almost ten minutes before he's able to completely unglue the top, gently soaking the material until he's able to peel it away from her skin, apologising the first half-dozen times he's felt her squirm under his ministrations until she's threatened to leave the next time he says sorry. He's had to bite his tongue several times but has managed to complete the process without her walking out on him.

She lets the top drop to the floor, lifting first one hand then the other off the desk till the bloody remnants of her polo neck is pooled at her feet. Once her back is exposed he has a job to keep his mind off the view she's presenting him, but telling her about the multiple cuts, some shallow, some deeper and the one frightening one just above her kidney which has begun to bleed again helps to keep him centred on the job in hand. He tries once again to convince her to go to the hospital but quickly desists when he sees her getting agitated. He can also see discolouration appearing round her shoulder and upper back, it must have been a hell of an impact he thinks.

He notices a couple of small shards of glass still embedded in the cuts and carefully pulls them out with tweezers, checking the rest of the cuts before he sprinkles antiseptic powder over them explaining that he doesn't know how effective it will be or how long it's been open … he thinks it was when Alexis grazed her knees a couple of years earlier. He puts gauze over the deep cut, taping it carefully in place before applying strips of plaster to the remaining ones.

He's talking quietly all the time, his deep voice lulling her as he administers to her wounds in spite of the occasional sharp pain as one of her cuts rebels. It's been a long time since anyone has cared for her and her instinctive auto-defences are down so that she's suddenly surprised to feel his hands gently rubbing some gel over her shoulder, the sensation cooling yet alarming her at how far she's zoned out over the last few minutes.

He pauses as his fingers reach the shoulder strap of her bra and he clears his throat. She turns her head to look at him and sees him holding his hands up and raising his eyebrows at her in almost boyish embarrassment. She gives him a glare which only makes him even more nervous before putting her left hand up and unclipping the bra, placing her left hand back across her front to hold it in place whilst she tries to shrug the right hand strap off her shoulder. It hurts and so she watches him as he uses his pinkie to push it down before continuing to gently rub the gel over her shoulder and upper arm.

When he's finished he stands back admiring his handiwork. "_You expecting dancing clowns or something?_" she asks him and it startles him. About to apologise once again he stops in time, grins at her and points to the basin full of pink-coloured water and the scattered contents of the med kit.

"_I'll just tidy up here a moment_" as he picks up the basin and carefully carries it towards the bathroom.


	16. Chapter 16

**_Chapter 16_**

She waits till he's disappeared into the bathroom before letting the bra drop to the floor and carefully easing into the T-shirt he'd supplied her with earlier. It's much too big, but feels clean and fresh and is lose enough to make her current bra-less appearance less conspicuous. She takes a few steps and settles carefully onto the edge of the chair opposite the desk, clasping her hands in her lap, staring around her surroundings and wondering what she's got herself into.

He reappears, packs away the items in the med kit, picks up her clothes from the floor, silently placing her bra on the desk and dropping the remnants of her top into the bin by the desk. He disappears once again with the med kit and the next time he appears from the bedroom he's carrying a bathrobe which he drapes across her shoulders.

She's shivering, probably from shock, but has been so preoccupied that it's only now she becomes aware of it. She gives him a strained smile of gratitude and watches as he leans back against the desk, crosses his arms and calmly regards her.

"_Wha … what do you want from me?_" she asks, a mix of fear and anger and puzzlement in her voice.

"_To talk_" he answers calmly, "_I'd like to find out a bit about you_ .."

"_Why?_" She interrupts him

"_Writer's curiosity? Nosiness? Wanting to know what a beautiful woman like you is doing leading the life you lead?_" he answers. "_Look …_" he steps in before she can say anything, " _… its gone five am and I'm pretty knackered, I should think you must be feeling pretty far out of it as well. How about you take the spare bedroom upstairs and we both get some sleep. We can discuss matters in the morning, and if you want to leave I won't stop you _.."

She still can't make out his angle, but the only spare room upstairs she can remember is the one she used to gain entry into the loft. Somehow she doesn't think he's proposing they sleep together right next to his mother and daughter. Not that she's in any condition for fun and games, nor does she intend to be around in the morning. A couple of hours sleep to get some of her strength back and she'll be away from this crazy guy well before he can settle down to 'talk' to her.

He leads the way and she follows him up the stairs, down the hall and into the almost familiar bedroom. He whispers about the bathroom next door which his daughter uses and about calling him if she should need anything. She just nods silently and watches the door close behind him, listening to his footsteps fade away down the hall.

She stands unmoving, barely breathing, in the middle of the room for all of ten minutes, still unsure of what she is doing here. Eventually she moves to the window, smiling as she sees the added security measures which have been installed since her visit. With a sigh she heads for the bed, drops the bathrobe over the end and pulls the Velcro tabs on her shoes before toeing them off. Gingerly, she climbs in, pulling the covers up over herself as she stretches out, sighing in pleasure at the feel of comfort and the release of tension. She'll let herself sleep for a couple of hours at most then she'll leave before anyone is up to stop her.

When her eyes open sometime later she begins to stretch before hissing and freezing in place. She waits for the pain in her back to subside to tolerable levels before slowly turning over. Her mind is fuzzy at first, then the memories from the previous night flood her brain. With a gasp she twists her head to look at the window. There is cold, bright sunlight shining in through the open curtains, much too much light for it to be early morning. Raising her wrist she stares unbelievingly at her father's watch. It's gone eleven-forty, she's slept for over six hours!

Almost in panic she eases her legs over the side of the bed and pushes herself up into a sitting position with the help of her good arm. Her back feels on fire, especially just above her right kidney. She slips her left hand behind her, feels the plaster and gauze dressing which seems to be suspiciously damp. Her right arm and shoulder feel pretty stiff and there's no way she can twist it behind her back and the whole lot is too awkward to deal with using only her left hand. She growls in frustration.

She manages to get herself onto her feet, quietly cursing her predicament. She also needs the loo and that could present some problems in her present state. She's still wearing her trousers and they feel uncomfortable and twisted on her and she's going to have to get out of them if she wants to use the bathroom. Ignoring her shoes she opens the door and looks out into the hallway. She can smell coffee and cooking from downstairs as well as hearing the clash of pots and pans. With a heartfelt groan which she hopes cannot be heard beyond her immediate surroundings, she pushes open the next door down and enters the bathroom.

It's obviously his daughter's, but she doesn't spend too much time in looking around. It's a bit of a struggle to slip her trousers and pants down without the stabbing pains in her back making her gasp, but she manages it and also manages to get them back up and buttoned when she's finished, but the cold layer of sweat on her forehead tells her she's not in good shape right now.

Putting a bit of toothpaste onto her finger she does the best she can to clean her teeth and freshen up before heading to the end of the hallway and starting down the stairs. She pauses halfway down; the place feels warm and her bare feet and T-shirt enough for the moment, whilst the smell of fresh coffee, scrambled eggs and bacon are making her mouth water and her stomach rumble. She thinks it's barely loud enough to be heard, but he looks up from the pan he's holding and gives her a smile which has her heart beating and the blood thrumming in her ears.

"_Morning sleeping beauty, how's your back today?_"

She almost smiles back at him, his cheerfulness infectious, only just remembering in time that in some mysterious way which she has not yet comprehended, she is his prisoner. She flattens the smile off her face with an effort, moving towards the kitchen island where he's already placing a steaming cup of coffee for her, her intention being to thank him and get the hell out of here.

Half an hour later, a still bemused Kate has had breakfast and is on a second cup of coffee and has yet to broach the subject of her leaving. She's decided that as soon as she's finished this coffee she'll tell him, though he's disappeared into his bedroom. A few minutes later he's returning with the med kit. "_I guess I should take a look at the running repairs_" he says, indicating he needs to pull up the tail of the T-shirt she's wearing to reveal her back.

With a sigh she consents allowing him to tug the bottom up so that she can hold it with her left hand over her right shoulder. She's aware that her bra is still probably on his desk, so she uses her right arm to hold the shirt in place below her breasts. He's carefully peeling the gauze away and she has to clamp her teeth together to stop the whimper which wants to escape her mouth.


	17. Chapter 17

**_Chapter 17_**

"_I still think you should go to a hospital for this one, it's hot and swollen … and it looks like it started bleeding again, if it gets infected you could be in all sorts of problems_" he says.

"_No hospital!_" she insists, "_The blood's probably from this morning, I forgot about it and_ …"

She feels him shrug, "_Your call, I went down to the pharmacy and picked up the strongest antiseptic spray they had. This will probably sting, but at least we'll know it's reasonably effective. Ready?_"

She grits her teeth and nods. She flinches as the spray first lands on the wound, more a reaction to the cold than anything, then the spray bites and she grabs at the counter in front of her, trying to keep her groan of pain inside her throat, knuckles white as she puts all the stress she can into her fingers. It takes a few moments for the stinging to abate sufficiently for her to unclamp her fingers from the marble's edge and allow a gasp to escape her lips. She wipes her brow with her hand and turns to look at him. "_You like …. making me …. suffer don't you?_"

He smiles back at her, preoccupation still overriding his sense of humour and she has to wonder why he even cares. It only takes him a few moments to apply fresh gauze and tape it in in place. He runs his fingers over the rest of her back, checking that the plasters on the rest of her cuts are ok and she can't help the shiver his touch sends through her body. His fingers pause a second, but he says nothing and lets them skitter over the rest of her wounds. "_Want some more anti-inflammatory on the bruising?_" he asks.

"_Sure it's not just an attempt to see more skin?_" she jokes, determined to keep this light. His eyes and his smile and his hands are distracting her too much and she still doesn't know where she stands with him, so funny is safe.

He grins, "_We'll wait till your wounds heal for that_" and there's a sense of truth behind his words that hits her right then, making the colour rise up her neck as she turns her face away.

"_Turn around and don't look_" She waits till he has his back to her and slips her right arm and shoulder out of the T-shirt, thankful that its size makes the task relatively easy. Once she's freed them she discreetly tucks it round her front and when satisfied says "_Ok_"

Her shoulder is a mottled mess of blues and greens and yellows and the stiffness down her back tells her that that is probably the same. His hands land gently on her skin and she has to look away, concentrating on the patterns of light and shade at the kitchen windows in order to keep her mind off the sensations his hands are producing as they move across her shoulder blades, down her ribs and back up to her upper arm. The cooling sensation of the gel is comforting though not distracting enough where his hands are concerned. She's not sure if she's relieved or sorry when he pulls them away and heads to the sink to wash them.

She slips her arm back into the T-shirt and pulls it down so that she is once more covered. Looking up she catches him watching her from the sink. "_What?_"

"_I just thought that maybe you should call your place of work? Let them know you won't be in today?_"

Now she's angry and climbing off the kitchen stool, being looked after is one thing, being told what to do is something else. "_And what makes you think I won't be … going in today, I mean!_"

He takes a step forward, leans on the opposite side of the island and with no humour in his voice says, "_Three things. One, you owe me. Two, by the time you get your bike back head home to change and get to work your shift will be over. Three, I think you need to keep off the streets for the next few days … and that's without the added problem of your back and shoulder_".

She glares at him, but she also knows he's right on all points. She stands there stiff and unbending for the best part of twenty seconds, then lets out a sigh of resignation and lets her shoulders drop. "_You're right … and I'm sorry for being such a …_" She's lost for words and he offers her …

"_Pain?_"

There's an involuntary chuckle from her and she agrees "_Yeah, sorry for being a pain_"

"_That's ok_ …" he grins back at her, "… _I'm a pretty good pain myself usually_"

He sees her looking around and "_Lost something?_"

She nods, biting her lip in a way that has him wanting to place his finger on her mouth and pull the trapped lip free …. or maybe just kiss it free. "_Yeah … my backpack? It has my phone and stuff_".

He frowns a moment and then his brow clears "_Probably still in the car, down in the garage. I'll go get it for you in a bit, but here, use mine to let them know you won't be in today … or tomorrow?_" the last being more of a tentative question rather than a suggestion.

She takes his phone from him, gazing into his blue eyes and trying to gauge his intentions, which so far has been a fruitless task.

She's surprised to see the _University Messenger Services_ number already up on the screen and throws a look his way. But then she shouldn't be surprised she supposes. He'd somehow tracked her down last night, so her job had probably had something to do with it. Hitting the dial button she moves towards the window, absently looking down at the street below as she tells Corrine that she's come off her bike and won't be in today, she pauses looking over her shoulder at the writer who is leaning on the kitchen island and watching her, maybe tomorrow as well she adds, she'll let her know.

She cuts the call, moves back to the kitchen and hands him the phone. "_So, what now?_"

"_How about I arrange to get your bike brought here so you can leave when you want to, I'll also bring your stuff up from the car and if you want to use the shower or whatever I'll put your clothes … well, what's left of them, through the machine. Then we sit down and talk. I'll tell you my story and you answer some questions_ …"

"_And if I don't want to answer them … or certain ones?_"

"_Your choice. All I'm asking for is the chance … the chance for you to listen to what I have to say, and the chance for me to get some answers. No other strings attached_" he adds holding up his hands in a sort of surrender pose.


	18. Chapter 18

**_Chapter 18 (1,187) Morning 1_**

She stares at him for a few moments, still unable to pigeon–hole him. He says no strings attached and she has to admit, so far he's tried nothing … other than being a great host and healer. She's been expecting the knock on the door in spite of his contradictory behaviour … a couple of uniforms ready to cart her off to the cop shop, a clearing away of valuable items whilst she's around, and yet, so far nothing, he's left her to her own devices, there are a number of valuable pieces she can see from here and yet he's made no move to hide them or warn her off.

Her innate caution tells her to head for the door and get the hell away from this man who not only confuses her, but also stirs all sorts of feelings she doesn't want to even think about. Yet another part of her want to find out what it is that makes him tick … and what it is about her, or her actions that has made an apparently law-abiding citizen move to the dark side!

She has to smile a bit at the thought and seeing his answering smile realises that she's been standing there saying nothing for several minutes. But _she_ doesn't rush into things, not Kate Beckett, so she turns and moves to one of the windows overlooking Broom Street, folding her arms across her chest and biting her lip as the thinks it all out … probably overanalysing as always, but that's her.

If he can get her bike back, it will mean she doesn't have to go back to the scene of her second failed crime and risk being spotted, but he'll need the keys from the pocket of the backpack. She really needs to know if her attacker has been able to identify her, whether the blood and cap she left behind have been traced or are just sitting in the lab computers ready to pop up the next time she screws up, but that will all have to wait.

She's also missed the deadline for her payment. She knows the routine when that happens; no investigation of her case until next month, she lets out a huff of annoyance oblivious to Castle's presence just a few feet away observing her every facial expression and lip-chewing moment.

She's covered at work for today at least, thanks to his insistence; she'll have to decide later if she'll go in tomorrow or not. Also, if he goes down to get her stuff from the car, he'll probably look through the contents of the backpack. The B&E equipment doesn't matter anymore, he already knows _that_ about her, but if he looks at the contents of the tubes, he'll probably want to return them to their owner or worse still, report her. Maybe she can convince him to let her get the stuff. Then there are the items she stole from here, not much admittedly, but she's going to have to return them if she want to live in peace with herself, it's the least she can do in return. But that means getting out of here unaccompanied and visiting her fence … it will just have to go on the to-do list.

And then of course there's the most dangerous part of all of this; their talk. She doesn't really give a shit about _his story_, but she's a highly private person and has no intention of telling him anything beyond the very basics. She'll have to make sure she answers nothing that might compromise her or her investigation and if she feeds him enough crap to satisfy his curiosity and he keeps to his word of allowing her to leave whenever she wants … well, she never expected to get off that easily!

Decision taken, she drops her arms to her side and turns from the window. She almost jumps back through it as she finds him only a couple of feet from her, observing her with interest. She can't help colouring up, and the worst part is she doesn't even know why!

"_Ok, I'd like to take you up on the offer of the shower, but I need to get a couple of things from my backpack first …_" she manages once she's got herself back under control, ".. _mind if I come down with you to get it?_"

"_You mean you don't want me poking around the contents,_" he answers her, "_You know, I had no intention of doing so_"

Much to her chagrin, she feels herself colouring up once again, not only because she realises he probably wouldn't have done so, but also at being read so easily. She's not used to this. Kate looks around for something to kick and not finding anything has to resort to crossing her arms across her chest and cursing under her breath.

Looking up at him she sees he's almost laughing at her and with a sigh gives a reluctant smile in return. "_Ok, I'll take the shower, you get my backpack … but no peeking!_" she glares at him.

"_No peeking at what? You in the shower or your backpack?_" he asks innocently

"_Either!_" she growls back

He shows her into his bathroom, pulls some towels out for her and returns from the bedroom a few moments later with a fresh shirt, a pair of boxers, thick socks and some sweat pants with drawstrings which he thinks should help to keep them round her waist. He also pulls open a drawer under the sink and points out a number of new toothbrushes, combs and other items in case she wants to make use of them.

"_Uhm, try not to get your back too wet or we'll have to change that dressing again … and, umm,_ _I'll just wait out here, chuck your stuff through the doorway and I'll put them in the machine before going down to the car_" he says as he's about to leave.

"_No way Castle, you show me later where the washing machine is and I'll do them myself, you don't get your hands on my pants!_"

"_Not your pants I really want to get my hands on_" he says waggling his eyebrows. She snorts and pushes him out, closing the door between them.

Rick stands outside the bathroom door grinning. It's the first time she's called him by his name, whether she's seen it on the cardboard cut-out in the office or already knew it when she broke in he doesn't know, but he rather likes the way it sounds when she says it. With a shake of his head he turns and heads out to grab his car keys.

Leaning against the bathroom door, Kate hears him walking away and sighs. _No good Kate_, she berates herself, _you can't let him get in your head like that!_ Moving to the open drawer, she pulls out a toothbrush still in its green and opaque _Holiday Inn_ cellophane and a comb in the white and red _Sheraton _carton. She grins, so he isn't above stealing the contents of hotel bathrooms!


	19. Chapter 19

**_Chapter 19_**

He's sitting at his desk typing away on his laptop when she enters from the bedroom, her sudden appearance making him look up. She blushes a bit at his appreciative look but hopes the colour doesn't show on her face. She's wearing his sweatpants with the legs rolled up and the drawstring tight around her middle, she's thankful his AC-DC shirt is long enough to cover the potato-sack look they give her. Her hair is a bit of a mess, she's done the best she can as far as washing it one-handed is concerned, her right arm still too stiff and sore to be of much use, but the drying has been a bit too much to cope with …

"_I was wondering if you have a hair dryer I could borrow_" she asks hesitatingly.

He nods, follows her back into the bathroom and opens the drawer holding the dryer. He thinks about pulling her leg over her being a pretty poor burglar if she can't find a dryer in his bathroom, but decides to bite his tongue. Maybe she was just messing with him or maybe she hadn't wanted to look through his drawers, whichever it was, he isn't going to bring it up.

The next time she appears, her hair is neatly combed and she's added his socks to her attire, her own clothes in her arms. He stands up, remembers something and opens a desk drawer. Pulling her bra out he adds it to the items in her arms and it's his turn to blush as she gives first him, then his drawer a rather pointed look. "_Uh, didn't want my daughter walking in and wondering what it was doing on my desk_" he says somewhat apologetically.

She lets it go and asks him to point her in the direction of the washing machine. He hovers around her as she places the clothes in the machine sighing at the stain round the waist of her trousers, she'll have to dispose of them once she gets home. He hands her the powder and some softener which earn him an eye roll.

"_Hey! I have a little girl and I like to make sure her clothes are comfy_" he says and she turns back to the machine to hide her smile.

Once the machine's on she turns to him and asks about her backpack. He nods in the direction of the office and tells her it's in there. When they enter she spots it on one of the chairs and picks it up. Last night had been a bit of a flight and there is no order to its contents and though both tubes were still there, she has no way of knowing if he's been through it or not. She unzips one of the smaller side pockets and withdraws the keys to the bike, carefully removing her house keys from the ring before tossing it over to him.

He calls Crown Cars and arranges with them to pick up the keys from the doorman downstairs and have the bike delivered to the underground garage. When he hangs up she's looking at him worriedly and as if reading her mind he says, "_They'll use their recovery vehicle to pick it up and deliver it here, no one will be riding it! I'll, just pop down and leave the keys with Charlie for them_"

She huffs, and watches him leave. Less than five minutes later he's back in the office and she realises they've reached crunch point, the point of no return and she's nervous, wondering what is going to happen, trying to think of something that will delay this moment a little longer. He gives her an out "_Coffee?_"

She nods her head, drops her backpack on the floor by the chair and follows him out to the kitchen. The moment is too short and suddenly she's standing there cup in hand, the steam from the coffee rising before her face and he's nodding to the couch. He waits for her to sit on one end, nervously twirling a short strand of hair with one hand and holding the coffee to her chest with the other.

He settles down on the opposite end, slightly turned towards her and he's placing his cup on the coffee table before them. She follows suit, then tucks her leg under her and fiddles nervously with the bottom edge of the T-shirt she's wearing.

Suddenly he's leaning over towards her and holding out his hand. She startles, looks up at him and sees he's grinning at her.

"_Hello, I'm Richard Castle_"

She can't help the answering smile and takes his hand "_Kate_" before quickly withdrawing it as she tries to ignore the almost electrical discharge she feels at his touch. There's a wistful look on his face as he repeats her name, obviously hoping for more but settling for just Kate.

"_So Kate, do you know who I am?_"

There's neither conceit nor expectation, but some hope to his tone and there's no way she's going to let him know she's his number one fan, or the fact that she thinks his life is a shallow, pointless, blonde-infested pool of mediocrity … not that the last few hours have been anything like that, but still … oh! And he's waiting for her answer and she can feel the colour beginning to creep up her neck again. _Get a grip girl!_

"_Yeah, I know who you are, there's a creepy look-alike in your office._"

He grins, "_You're lucky its only one, last month there were five of us in there … not counting me_"

"_Anyway, in case you're not aware of it, over the last several years I've written a series of books about a character called Derrick Storm … and in my last one I killed him off!_ …"

_Yeah and that is something she is really pissed off about. Why the hell did he have to do that? Not that she's going to tell him so, no, no way, but … shit he's talking again_

"…. _I thought it would be easy to come up with a new character_ …" he sighs and she almost reaches out to wipe the dejected look from his face but changes the direction of travel of her hand and picks up the coffee cup instead "… _but for the best part of eight months now, nothing, nada, every idea I came up with was shallow, meaningless and uninspired_" here he pauses and takes a sip of coffee, "_then one night I'm walking out of my bedroom after another evening of pointlessly staring at my laptop's screen and walk straight into the most astonishing and beautiful creature_ …"

She's ducked her head as soon as she realised where he was going but she's sure her face is beetroot coloured and there is no way she is going to look up from her coffee, otherwise those blue eyes of his will have her gushing out all her secrets ..

_"… I tried to catch her, to stop her flitting away into the night, I don't know why, but there was something in her eyes, that I needed to know about. So I chased her out of the room and upstairs, and suddenly I got scared, what if she'd done something to my daughter_ …"

He doesn't miss her startled eyes as she raises them to him, the barely formed denial on her lips before she`s looking down again, fingers twisting in the T-shirt.


	20. Chapter 20

**_Chapter 20_**

"_I guess I should have known better_ …" and he grins at the almost imperceptible nod of her head, "… _she was still fast asleep and quite safe, but by then my visitor had disappeared, leaving me with nothing more than the fleeting impression I'd gained in my office_"

"_Pretty good fleeting impression_" she mumbles thinking of the artist sketch on the easel.

He grins but continues "_Anyway, the next day I suddenly had my new character_ ..." and that does get her startled eyes staring at him in shock, and again he's aware of that extraordinary mix of green and hazel which seems to alter with her mood and the light. Its several moments before he realises he hasn't spoken, so with a lick of suddenly dry lips he continues "_I sat down that afternoon and well into the early hours and I found I had the most extraordinary character on my pages, with so much potential _…" he sighed "… _but I needed more, I needed to understand my heroine, understand her motives, give her depth and meaning that would make her seem as incredible to my readers as she'd appeared even in that fleeting instance to me_"

She's almost got the T-shirt in tatters by now, though luckily the material is still holding up to the twisting her fingers are applying. Every time she looks up in astonishment at his words his blue eyes drag her deeper into his fantasy and she finds it more and more difficult to maintain the fact that he's crazy, uppermost in her mind.

"_So, I used my fantastic detection skills and contacts I have in the NYPD to track you down_ …" this time when she looks up at him there's a mix of fear and incredulity in her face, so he rather sheepishly admits _"… well, in actual fact my mother recognised you from the sketch in my office, after that it wasn't difficult_"

She now has enough information to build a picture in her mind of how he'd ended up being where he was last night, though there are still plenty of lagoons which she needs filled in. But right now there are other matters on her mind, thoughts tumbling around in her head and she's not sure she'll be able to get them all out.

"_What makes you think I'm interesting … and heroine … what type of heroine?_" and she's almost face slapping herself for that last bit. _Really Kate, he spews out the most …. most …. outlandish crap and the only thing you hang on to are the interesting and heroine bits!_

"_Yes you're interesting, under normal circumstances, you should not be here. Most smart, good-looking women become lawyers, or doctors or … or designers, not cat-burglars, you're not Bridge and Tunnel, no trace of the boroughs when you talk, so that means Manhattan. That means money. You went to college … probably a pretty good one ... you had options … yeah, you had lots of options … better options …. more socially acceptable options. And you still chose this. That tells me something happened. Something that made you choose this way of life … and I'm curious … just what made you go the route you have?_"

She`s abruptly on her feet almost knocking the cup off the table, she needs space, needs to move, she takes several nervous steps towards the window, looks out, lets her hand twitch nervously at the curtain, then she's turned again, is straightening the picture on the wall, though it's perfectly straight already … abruptly she's dropping her hands, maybe he'll think she's trying to steal it … another few steps and she's staring at the contents of the bookshelves, running her fingers down the spines, allowing the leather to calm her down. Suddenly his hand is round her wrist, not hard, not frighteningly so, but gentle, calming, and then he's slowly pulling her back to the couch.

She stands there for a moment, staring at the spot she vacated so abruptly a few minutes earlier. She sits herself down, pulls her legs up and wraps her arms round her knees, fingers fidgeting with the cloth of her … his sweatpants. She stares off into the middle distance, allowing her mind to travel into the dark areas that hurt her so much, debating how much she should tell him. She no longer even remembers her earlier decision to give nothing away, he's already peeled her outer protective layer away, got into her mind somehow and now she's thinking of herself and not him, how much is she willing to reveal rather than how much can she hide.

"_My mom was killed during my first year at Stanford, I was going to be a lawyer like her and my Dad, well, I was going to be better actually, first female Chief Justice of the Supreme Court" she pauses giving a wry smile "we were supposed to go to dinner, my mom, my dad and I, and she was going to meet us at the restaurant but she never showed. Two hours later we went home and there was a detective waiting for us. Detective Raglin. They found her body. She had been stabbed._"

_"A robbery?_"

"_No. She still had her money and purse and jewellery. And it wasn't a sexual assault either. They attributed it to gang violence. Random wayward event. So, they just tried to package it up nicely and the killer was never caught_."

She pauses, running her hands through her hair and looks at him, expecting derision at best, pity at worst, but she's surprised. There's anger and outrage and concern and for a moment she wonders which of those is aimed at her story and which at her. She looks away, at the cup on the table at the shadows tripping across the floor, at her fingers ... then his hand appears before her, settles on her knee and gives a gentle squeeze and she's not sure why, why it should be so, but it's comforting and so she settles back against the couch, takes a deep breath and continues.

"_My father started drinking and I couldn't go back to Stanford, not with him like that and no closure to my mother's case. I spent every day pestering the police, talking with legal aid, putting what little knowledge I had of law into trying to get the case reopened, I used what little money I had to pay for information. Two years of scrimping and saving and chasing shadows. Eventually I had to give up, get a job and try to live day to day, put it all behind me and just become a survivor_"


	21. Chapter 21

**_Chapter 21_**

"_I was working nights in a bar and daytime as a messenger for a courier service …. not the one I'm with now … when one of our people delivering a package walked straight into something; he was killed. The cops came round to tell us about it and to ask questions. A couple of days later we learnt he was related to one of the mob families, I didn't know why he was working as a courier, but whatever the reason it stirred things up_"

"_One night at work, the barman calls me over and says someone wants to talk to me. The guy's about my dad's age, smartly dressed and got two bodyguards as big as wardrobes either side. He says he's interested in anything I can tell him about Rico_ …" she pauses, looks at him and adds "… _the courier who was killed. He pulls a picture of the crime scene_ …" here she takes a deep breath and wipes a tear away before continuing, "… _he must have got the picture off the cops, but what struck me was the similarity between my Moms' death and that of Rico, they both had the same type of wound and were propped up against a wall the same way. Maybe it was a coincidence, maybe not_"

"_You got a glass of water or something I could have?_" she asks. He startles up from where he's sitting, arm along the back of the couch and gets to his feet.

"_Sure … water, juice, beer, wine_?"

"_Water's fine thanks_"

He heads to the fridge and pulls out a couple of bottles, showing them to her. She nods and he grabs a couple of glasses from a cupboard and takes them over to the table, unscrewing the tops and pouring the glasses. She takes a couple of swallows before settling back into the corner of the couch putting her feet under her and turning to face him across the couch.

It's the first time she's looked straight at him since she's started to relate her story, and he's glad that she seems to be opening up to him slightly.

Cradling her glass in her lap, she takes another sip before continuing "_I tried to get the whole thing out of my mind after they left … and had just about managed it when I got a second visit a few months later, only this time it was a different guy, he said he was a PI_" here she took another sip, "_Seems my first visitor was Rico's Dad and he wasn't convinced about the cop's version of his son's death. Whatever he uncovered, his bodyguards weren't protection enough … someone had taken out the two guards and cut Cambrea's throat. I'm not sure … I can only guess and put two and two together from what the PI said … but it would seem the family decided they didn't want to be directly involved_ …_ probably didn't want to wake up the same way as Rico and his Dad. Anyway, they passed the job onto Jimmy Valote the PI, and when I mentioned the similarities between my Mom's death and that of Rico's he seemed interested. Long story short, he offered to investigate my Mom's case along with the Cambreas' for a fee_ …" here she paused and looked him in the eyes "… _one thousand bucks a month … danger money he said_"

Rick gives a silent whistle as he absorbs what she's just told him. He checks his watch and sees its well past lunch time. He debates with himself for a few seconds, he really wants to hear the rest of her story, doesn't want to give her a chance of clamming up again, but he also thinks they need a break from the tension.

"_Look, my daughter will be back from school soon and I think we need to carry on this talk in my office later, but meanwhile we could take a breather, I can get us some lunch and check your back, see how it's doing_"

At first she's not sure, she's finding this talk much more cathartic than she'd expected, Castle is a good listener and doesn't make her feel weak or stupid, but she is also aware of the tension building in her body and the thought of food is not unwelcome despite the late breakfast. Suddenly the first part of his speech registers.

"_Oh my God! Your daughter! What are you going to tell her … I mean, about me?_" The alarm in her voice has him grinning as he carries the empty coffee cups to the kitchen.

"_I'll just tell Alexis that you're a friend helping me with some research_"

"_Uh! That sounds so .. so_ .." she says, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

"_So double entendre?_"

And at her nod he laughs "_Its ok, Alexis is sweet, she's also smart … and one thing I don't do is bring my double entendres home, so she'll take it at face value …_" he turns to look at her "… _after all, there is no double entendre is there?"_

She gives him an eye roll and throws the empty water bottle at him.

A few minutes later he suggests she put her washed clothes through the dryer whilst he knocks something up to eat. Once the clothes are dry she takes them out, heads to the study to grab her backpack and goes upstairs to change back into her underclothes and pants, pulling the AC-DC top back on to cover the bloodstain that hadn't completely washed out. She hesitates about what to do with the boxers and sweatpants she's been wearing along with the bathrobe from last night. She'd been adamant about leaving this place when she'd fallen into bed in the early hours, but since then she's felt pretty comfortable and having Castle treat her back was an added bonus. Should she leave this afternoon or should she spend another night here. She flops down onto the bed and groans as she buries her head in the clothes bunched on her lap.

"_Are you Ok?_"

Her head shoots up at the question and she sees him standing in the doorway hand raised as if about to knock.

"_I ... I couldn't make up my mind about what to do with these _..." she says lifting sweatpants, boxers and robe.

"_Oh, I thought maybe your back was giving you trouble, didn't realise it was a pants problem_ ..." he grins at her "... _why not just leave them on the bed for now. If you decide to leave I'll deal with them, if you decide to stay the night you can use them_ ..." he lets the suggestion hang in the air.

She looks at him for a moment still trying to decipher him. Eventually, with a sigh she stands up, folds the clothes and lays them on the end of the bed. She straightens the bedcovers, still favouring her right shoulder but finding it slightly less of a problem than earlier in the day,

"_Why did you come up?_" she asks.

"_Oh, just to say that lunch is ready_"

Looking at him she thinks it is probably true, he doesn't have the guile to dissimilate if he'd come up to check on her, make sure she wasn't in the wrong bedroom, opening drawers she had no right to open, had that been the case he'd be all flustered right now ... and though he's giving her a slightly quizzical look, she concludes he probably hadn't even thought of it. And she'd better do something before her attitude does get him to think along those lines.

"_Ok, Castle lead the way!_"


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

They are at the kitchen counter, halfway through their baked potatoes and tomato and basil salad when they hear keys rattling and the front door opens.

"_Hi Dad, what's for_ ..." Alexis pauses as she spots Kate "... _hi!_" she adds.

"_Welcome home Pumpkin, oh and this is Kate_" he says as he pulls his daughter into a big hug that lifts her off her feet.

"_Ugh, Dad, you can let me go now ... so I can breathe?_"

"_How was school today then?_"

Having smiled and given his daughter a little wave on her arrival, Kate now sits back and watches the interaction between the two. Whatever she may have thought of Castle's page six life, the way he treats his daughter ... and hell! The way he's treated her so far, plus his earlier comment about not bringing his 'double entendres' home makes her wonder just how much of what she thought she knew of him is actually true.

"_Oh, by the way Pumpkin, Kate may be staying the night in the spare bedroom ... she came off her bike yesterday and hurt her back so I've been patching up her cuts and bruises_"

The grin and waggling eyebrows he throws at her over his daughter's head help to keep both her embarrassment and the rising colour off her face, at least he's gone with the story she gave Corrine earlier which for some obscure reason pleases her.

Alexis is all concern and asks "_Did you hurt yourself badly?_"

She shakes her head and plays it down as Castle sets out Alexis' lunch, pulling the remaining potato from the oven where it was being kept warm and fussing around his daughter much to Kate's secret amusement. Discussion is all about Alexi's homework and her day at school and it's not till they've finished and cleared everything away that the conversation returns to her. Castle moves towards her and says "_Probably time to check that gash, see how it's coming along, anyway_"

Kate gives a frustrated huff but allows him to pull the T-shirt up and peel off one edge of the gauze padding. She hears Alexis' indrawn breath and feels Castles finger prodding gently around the wound which has her flinching away from his touch. All she can think of is that at least this time she's got her bra on.

"_Well, I don't know if it's the antiseptic spray or Kate's super healing powers, but the swelling seems to have gone down a bit and it doesn't feel quite as hot. There's still a bit of bleeding though ._.." he adds as he presses the tape back onto her back, "... _It'll probably need changing before you go to bed_"

Kate twists her head round to glare at him, but softens the look when she sees Alexis staring at her now covered back with huge blue eyes. She's still not sure what his game is ... other than to get her to spend another night here, what for, she can't understand, but his kid doesn't need to get caught in the crossfire.

By the time she's assured Alexis that things aren't as bad as they look and she's changed the subject back to her schoolwork and they've discussed how dumb boys are in certain matters, the pointed looks he's getting not going unobserved by Castle, she's feeling quite at home.

Watching Alexis head up to her room to do her homework, Kate shakes her head and feeling his eyes on her turns to look at him. "_That's quite a girl you have there!_"

There's simple and unadorned pride in his eyes as he nods "_That's what I tell her every day. Coffee?_"

The change in subject matter catches her by surprise, but then she realises he wants to get back to their talk. She feels a bit reluctant now, but he did say she could leave at any time. She's about to say yes when the buzzer goes and Castle answers. It's Charlie, the daytime doorman letting them know that Crown Cars is here with her bike.

They take the lift down and by the time Castle opens the garage doors with the remote, her bike's been unloaded from the recovery vehicle and the mechanic's wheeling it down the ramp. Castle shows him where to park the Harley and Kate can't help herself checking her baby over. Castle signs the papers takes the keys from the guy and tips him, waiting until he's gone back up the ramp before closing the doors.

They're back in the lift heading for the apartment before he hands her the keys over and she's asking him how much he tipped the mechanic, and that she'll pay him back ... he silences her by placing his finger on her lips and she stared at him from large, surprised eyes. She expects him to say something but the doors ping open and he steps back ushering her out before him.

What is with this guy? She steals from him ... well ok, his mother ... and he treats her like she`s special? Or is he just piling up so much debt that she's going to have to tell him everything? Maybe he's Machiavellian after all!

Once they're back inside the loft he gets their coffees and leads the way to the office, closing the door behind her and indicating she should take one of the chairs. As soon as she's settled down, feet drawn under her, he hands her a coffee and takes the other chair.

"_Ok, so Jimmy Valote asks you for a thousand bucks a month to investigate your Mom's case … what did you say?_"

_Wow, straight into it huh Castle, way to get your girl! _She thinks, then suddenly blushed at her own thought ... _must be that cut out that's staring at me_.

Placing her cup on the table between them she shrugs and runs her fingers through her hair. "_Yeah, right. You can imagine my reaction … days as a messenger, nights as a waitress, like a thousand bucks a month is peanuts. I just laughed in his face, but he told me there were ways. I thought I knew what he meant and was about to punch his lights out when he said that a certain someone would be willing to pay good money if I were to let him look at certain papers before they were delivered to their rightful owners_"

"_What did you say to that?_"

"_I felt like saying he could take a running jump, but decided to be more diplomatic and just said no_" she takes a sip of coffee and continues, "_About two weeks later he appears at the bar again and hands me an envelope, says the contents are a goodwill gesture, and for free, that if I'm interested in more information, to contact him, his number was in the envelope_"

For a while she sits there, small in the chair, staring unseeing before her. He waits her out. Eventually he hears her clear her throat and continue, "_When I got home that night I opened the envelope. There were three police photographs from the scene, the ME's report and a couple of pages from Raglan's report. Not much, but more than I'd been able to get in two years of pleading and using the law _..." she looked at him, begging for him to understand her.

"_In two weeks you'd got more information than previously in two years, I can understand that being pretty tempting ... but what if it were false?_"

"_Oh believe me I thought about it, about how they could possibly get that type of information, whether it would be reliable, what would it cost me in the long run ... the how was obvious, once I'd thought about it, it was what they were asking me to do, in this case it was probably some cop or admin staff who could be bribed or forced into getting the info_"

"_I struggled with my conscience for the next week or so, it went against everything my Mom and Dad had taught me, against everything I believed in ... and yet, there was my Mom who believed in the sanctity of the Law lying in an alleyway with her throat cut and my Dad who wouldn't even cheat at monopoly lying in a drunken stupor ... and you know what?_"

He shakes his head even though he feels it's a rhetorical question.

"_I got mad ... and I wanted to get even. I'd stop as soon as I had what I needed, but I'd do whatever I had to, to get to the bottom of her murder!_"

He watches her twisting her fingers together, trying to get her emotions under control before turning to look at him. "_Does that make me a terrible person Castle?_" she asks almost tearfully.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

He wants to go to her, hold her and tell her no, she's not a horrible person, but there is still much she has to tell him and he doesn't want to spook her if he's misreading the situation so he settles for a shake of the head and a "_No, I don't believe it does Kate_"

She wipes her eyes and gives an abrupt little nod. "_Anyway, I contacted him, said I was interested in his proposition. He told me the first job was worth four hundred bucks and to meet him at a café near my work place the following day_ ..." she pauses and takes a deep breath, "... _when we met he told me that a document would be sent by a certain local law firm using our services, that I was to request that delivery and that once I had the document I was to go to an address he'd give me, deliver the document and then take it on to the original destination, that I would only lose about five minutes and that that could be put down to traffic if anyone enquired_"

"_And that was what I did. Told the dispatcher that I had to do some private business in Little Italy and did she have anything for that area. She gave me the document and a package for another client. I went to a cheap hotel off Canal and dropped the envelope into a cubby hole, stood outside on the pavement until the receptionist brought it back out to me a few minutes later. I assumed it was the same envelope … looked and felt the same, then went on to deliver it to the final address_"

She puts the now empty cup she's been holding in her lap on the table and looks across at him. He's got a faraway look in his eyes, the fingers of his left hand drumming on the armrest. A few moments later he looks at her, "_Any idea what the law firm specialised in?_"

She nods, "_Yep, I also thought of that, I made what I thought were discreet inquiries and found out they specialised in corporate finances, then a few days later I had another visit from Valote. He told me I now had a credit with him of four hundred bucks and that I'd get instructions for my next 'job' in a couple of days' time … I also got a warning … if I ever tried tracing or following up again on any of my 'jobs', I'd find myself joining my Mom. It was a clear threat, they'd obviously found out about my attempt to learn about the document, and I sure as hell wasn't going to mess with the mob … assuming they are the ones running this show_"

He looks at her and smiles, "_Hell, I don't blame you. What happened next?_"

She shrugs, "_It became pretty much routine, once or twice a week they'd leave a note in my locker … I assume they had someone else in the messenger service working for them or doing them favours … I hung around, kept an eye on the lockers, never saw who it was. It got me to thinking that maybe Rico Cambrea had been doing my job until things went south. That scared the pants off me, I can tell you!_"

She uncurls her legs, stands up and begins to wander around the room, picking out a book here and there, flicking through the pages before closing it and replacing it carefully. Items on the shelves are picked up, held to the light, turned to be admired or gently replaced. He lets her have her time, he hadn't expected her to be as open as she is being and it makes him wonder, does she have any friends? Does it only require someone to listen to her understandingly for her to pour out her secrets?

His thoughts are interrupted as she returns to the chair, curls one foot under her and sits down. She must have read his thought, or had the same ones herself "_Why am I telling you all this?_" there is a touch of fear, a touch of puzzlement in her voice as she looks at him.

He goes for light "_Because I'm ruggedly handsome?_"

She snorts, but the grin lightens her face and seems to dissipate some of the tension in her body. She turns to look at the sketch on the easel and cocks her head a little, her eyebrows meeting over the bridge of her nose as she wrinkles her brow.

"_Let me ask you something Castle, is my nose really that long?_"

He loves how her calling him '_Castle'_ sounds so cool ... and so hot at the same time! "_No, my bad, probably down to the poor lighting that night …_"

"_Uh, Ok … just that it's been bugging me all day … and why keep it, I mean, on display there?_"

"_She's my new character … she inspires me!_"

"_So, what's she like, this new character of yours?_"

"_Well, she's not too bright... and kind of slutty_"

He gets a look which should probably scare the pants off him, but he can also see the twitching lips.

"_No, honestly, you'd have nothing to be embarrassed about. She's going to be … she's going to be really smart, very savvy, haunting good looks, really good at her job … and kinda slutty_"

"_So, nothing like me then!_" she laughs

He shakes his head, returns her smile and understanding she wants to change the subject, asks her about her bike, how and why she ended up with a Harley. Over the next two hours, the conversation is lighter. He tells her about Alexis, his mother … well only those stories apt for public consumption, a bit about his books. He's pretty sure she's a fan from a couple of comments dropped, but he'd like to know just how much of one she really is. She in turn tells him a bit about her childhood, the happy memories, a bit about her time as a teenage model for a clothes catalogue. They skirt carefully around her current job, her side-line activities, her Mom's death and Dad's condition. They're both aware that one wants to hear it all and the other doesn't want to talk about any of it, but there's an unspoken agreement to lighten the atmosphere, so they do so until Rick hears Alexis in the kitchen.

"_How about we go get dinner ready, my mother will no doubt be joining us shortly and the last thing I want is for you to be poisoned to death!_"

"_At least not till I've spilled the beans?_" She was aiming for fun, but the look on his face made her realise she'd missed by a mile "_Sorry, not funny_"


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

When Martha walks into the loft she's surprised by the sight of her son and daughter standing either side of an attractive redhead as all three work at the kitchen island. She looks familiar, but right now she can't place her.

"_Good evening everyone, and who do we have here?_" She asks as she approached them. Alexis drops the spoon she's using to stir whatever it is in the bowl and runs round to give her grandmother a hug saying as she does so "_Hey Grams, Kate's helping us prepare Chicken Provençale!_"

Watching the hesitation on their guest's face, Martha, one arm round her granddaughter's shoulder leans forward and holds out her hand "_Nice to meet you Kate, I hope my son is looking after you adequately? … and haven't we met before?_"

"_Hello Miss Rodgers, I …_" the fact that she's colouring up for no apparent reason intrigues Martha no end, and just as she's about to unleash one of her apropos-about-nothing risqué remarks, Castle butts in to stop her.

"_Mother! Kate is helping me with some research … and you know her from the office_ …" he adds with a sweeping gesture towards the room behind her, some of the sauce dripping off the fork that he's holding in his hand.

"_Ah! Of course dear… oh, and call me Martha_," as the light dawns on her, the courier, what on earth can she be helping Richard with, apart from the obvious. However, the poor girl doesn't look too comfortable with the current exchange, and Martha being Martha, she sets out to sooth their guest's nerves … and dig around a bit if she can get away with it.

She grabs a couple of wine glasses, places them on the island with a pointed look at her son and slipping her arm through Kate's drags her off towards the couch. "_So, tell me Kate dear, how did you and that terrible son of mine meet?_"

Kate throws a deer-in-the-headlights look at Castle and he gives a hopeless shrug in return. Hurricane Martha is sometimes too much even for him. He's quick to pour the wines and carry them over to where the two women are seated on the couch. Checking that his daughter is out of earshot he glares at his mother and says. "_Be nice and don't interrogate her. Kate's helping me with some background information and I don't want you spooking her!_"

"_Richard dear, as if I would, all I'm doing is getting to know this lovely girl!_"

"_Well if this lovely girl yells for help, you can find somewhere else to stay_" he utters as a dire warning as he returns to the kitchen and the half-prepared meal.

Kate's not sure whether to laugh or not at the extraordinary exchanges she's witnessed during the last few minutes. Castle's mother is obviously one for the theatrics and she's highly amused by them, but there is also some script going on which she has yet to pick up on. However, for the moment she'll just go with the flow and try to keep out of any minefields.

She does a pretty good job of deflecting and in spite of her overwhelming sense of guilt at taking her jewellery she enjoys her talk with this extraordinary woman. The smell coming from the kitchen is adding to the overall sense of wellbeing and she really can't think of a good enough reason to leave tonight.

Martha doesn't miss the occasional looks her companion throws at her son and granddaughter in the kitchen, or the somewhat protective looks he's returning. There's something more going on here than meets the eye, but she's not sure what exactly. The kid's obviously had a rough time from the sad look in her eyes and the way she dodges certain questions, and she's much too bright and well-read to be just a simple courier. But she also knows her son's propensity for meeting strange people with even stranger jobs when it comes to research, after all, he'd even been mixed in with the mob!

Dinner is a fun affair, with everyone congratulating Kate on her recipe whilst Castle pouts claiming he's the one who's done all the cooking. Martha makes a point of recounting embarrassing stories, embarrassing where Rick was concerned of course, which has Kate in tears and Alexis alternately covering her ears and staring in awe at her Dad. With dinner finished and everything cleared away, Martha heads upstairs to get ready for an evening out with friends and Alexis heads for the couch to watch a TV show.

Kate is standing by the kitchen island, slightly shell-shocked from the evening and wondering what to do with herself. She's suddenly startled as Castle comes up beside her and places a gentle hand to the small of her back. She flinches instinctively, but then finds that there was no pain, only a little discomfort. She turns her head and looks apologetically at him.

"_How about we go to the office and I check you over_ …" then realising what that sounds like hastily adds "… _I mean your cuts and bruises!_"

Kate has to bite her lip to stop from laughing and deciding to have a bit of fun throws him a glare. He's trying to come up with a good out but obviously each line he thinks of is worse than the previous one from the expressions chasing each other across his face. Deciding to let him off the hook, she pats his arm and strides off towards the office. Castle stops on the way and she hears him telling Alexis he's just going to change her dressing.

"_You need any help Dad?_"

"_No Pumpkin, I've got this, you enjoy the programme_"

He disappears into the bedroom and returns a few minutes later with the med kit. "_You want to do the _…" and he's waving his hand about obviously suggesting she bare her back and shoulder. She slowly shakes her head, for a playboy he's pretty lousy when it comes to getting a girl to take her clothes off. The thought spreads the grin across her face and she has to turn away to hide it from him. When she's able to face him straight-faced again she lifts her hand, finger pointing downwards and twirls it, indicating he should turn around. She lets the smile appear when he's got his back to her and unclips her bra, sliding T-shirt and shoulder strap off her right shoulder. Once she's turned back to the desk and has both hands resting on it she tells him he can turn around.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

He's replaced the dressing on the deep cut, still suggesting she should at least go see a doctor over it. He tells her the other cuts seem to be doing ok considering its less than twenty-four hours since she climbed into his car. He still doesn't know how she came about them and he's not about to push his luck asking her. Some of the plaster strips on the deeper cuts are showing the dark stains of dried blood, but there doesn't seem to be any fresh stains. It's really the deep one which still concerns him although it's looking much better than last night. Soon his hands are massaging the anti-inflammatory gel into her shoulder and upper arm.

The gel is still cooling and soothing, but this time she's much more aware of the effect his hands are having on her and she has to bite her lip and drop her head to hide it from him. When he's finished he heads into his room with the kit and she's left to get herself dressed again. She's got her arm back through the shoulder strap of the bra but is having difficulty in doing up the catch. She's either going to have to take it off completely and do it up round her waist as she did earlier in the day, or …

"_Oops, sorry, thought you'd be done by now!_"

She glares at him in the doorway. "_Castle! Don't just stand there, give me a hand!_" she growls. He does the catch up for her and helps her get her arm back into the T-shirt and she's slightly surprised he hasn't made fun of her or tried to make a big show out of it.

"_You mind if we go join my daughter for a bit of bonding time, I always like to spend some time with her, especially in the evenings?_" She nods, quite happy to let the complicated conversation drop and have some time to herself, let her mind go over the day and work out why she was blabbering to him so much.

"_I'll go upstairs_ …"

He cuts in, surprise in his voice and face "_Why go upstairs? Come and watch a film with us_"

She's reluctant, and surprised and bewildered by her own wish to do exactly what he's just suggested. She shakes her head trying to clear her brain and he misinterprets it adding "_Please? You can't stay upstairs on your own when we can watch something cool down here! I'll even let you choose the film …_"

It takes her a second to catch up with him, and just as she's about to blurt out that she hadn't meant to say no, she manages to get a grip on herself.

"_Ok_" It's about all she can manage right now. He leads her out, a hand gently wrapped round her elbow and she should be shaking it off but she doesn't really mind … and she needs to get away from this crazy man soon or she's not going to know which way is up!

They reach the couch where Alexis is curled up into a corner watching them with a smile and hesitates. He indicates she should take the opposite corner and she sits down, leaving ample space for him in the middle. "_So, what shall we watch, any preferences?_"

They look through what's available and even though she insists it's up to Alexis to choose they end up going for her pick of _Monsters Inc_, she's never got round to seeing it and in spite of feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the situation, she's soon laughing along with the others at the on-screen antics.

As the credits roll, Kate becomes aware of the fact that somehow she's tucked her legs under her and has managed inch her way across the couch until her knees are pushed up against his thigh and she's suddenly colouring up for no reason and quickly edging back to her own corner.

She thinks he's unaware of her actions as he hasn't even looked at her and is busy lifting his daughter's head off his lap where she'd ended up resting it. Kate doesn't know when that happened … or her own imperceptible shifting towards him. It must be a dip in the couch … _yeah, right Kate!_

Alexis is standing and stretching and kissing her Dad and giving her a wave and saying goodnight … and Kate suddenly doesn't want to be left alone in a cosily lit room on a couch with Richard Castle. Every alarm bell in her head is ringing and jarring and she just needs to get up to her room before she goes and does something stupid!

He watches her as she stands up, suddenly all nervous and prickly. He wants to tell her that she can relax, that she's safe here but then she's jerkily waving a hand at him and pointing up over her shoulder and mumbling something about going to bed and thanks for everything, all the time retreating backwards and colouring up.

He decides not to push, he still wants to hear the rest of her story but doesn't want to scare her away, so he settles for a smile in her direction and a "_See you in the morning_" and just as she's half-way up the stairs he calls out to her to stop, to wait a minute.

Kate turns back on the stairs, nervously wondering what he's about to do or say, but he's disappeared into his study. A few minutes later he re-emerges, grinning as he approaches her. It's not till he's standing a couple of steps below her, hand held out that she realises she's been staring into his rather blue eyes and looking down finds he's holding out the toothbrush and comb she'd used after her shower along with some toothpaste. She ducks her head in thanks, taking the items and jumping as her hand touches his. She hopes he didn't notice and with a thank you quickly retreats up the stairs.

Rick watches her go and sighs. There is something so compelling about her that he has to find out what makes her tick, and yes, she's hot and he'd love to get her into bed but he also knows any move in that direction right now would just scare her off. But at this moment in time ideas are bubbling up in his head and he needs to concentrate on getting them all down.

Almost four hours later he leans back in the chair, laces his fingers and flexes them to stretch the cramp out of them. The document in front of him is still very much in draft form, but the first brush strokes are showing through. He now has a gist of what makes his character behave as she does, the outlines which will contain her actions and reactions, not to mention the extremely hot description of this auburn-haired avenger. With a satisfied smile he saves the document, turns off the laptop, desk lamp and as soon as he's in his bedroom, flops onto the bed, falling asleep without even crawling under the covers.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

Her eyes open and it takes her a few moments to remember where she is, to sort out her memories from her dreams. The light coming in the window is pale, barely able to push back the darkness, forcing it into the far corners of the room in a last ditched battle between night and day.

A glance at her watch shows it's barely six o'clock. This time she remembers her back and is careful as she sits up. Her shoulder is better than yesterday and as she flexes her wrist and clenches and unclenches her hand she finds she's able to draw her arm across her chest with only some discomfort. Whatever gel it was Castle used on her seems to have helped ease the swelling and loosen up the stiffness.

She spends several minutes considering her options, and though she could quite happily take another day of pampering … especially by the writer, she's no longer so sure about baring her soul to him. Yes, she owes him and she will have to come up with some sort of repayment, but she needs time to work things out in her own head, everything has moved much too quickly over the past day and a half and she isn't used to not being in control of things; it frightens her.

She's going to have to be careful with her injuries, make sure she doesn't make matters worse, and she'll need to be extra cautious when it comes to doing her usual activities. She'll phone work today and let them know she won't be coming in. A day spent at home, quietly relaxing and not being interrogated by Castle will do more for her recuperation than anything else … well she almost convinces herself about that. But there is an overriding need to get away and to work things out in her own mind.

Kate can't believe how much she told him yesterday … was it only a day ago? … she really needs to get a filter in place before she sees him again … wait! _Who said anything about seeing him again?_ He probably won't want to anyway after she walks out … on the other hand, he probably will if he still wants to 'research' her … _yeah right Kate, way to go!_

Kate's careful as she rolls out of bed, making sure not to pull any healing cuts before quietly heading to the bathroom. She'll wait till she gets home for a proper wash, maybe a careful bath, but for now, her teeth and a bit of a wash is going to be enough.

Once back in the room she strips the bed, assuming they'll want to wash the sheets, folds his clothes on top and quickly dresses in her own clothes. She keeps his t-shirt and realises it's going to be cold on the bike, before fishing the backpack from under the bed and checking the contents of the tubes. Satisfied, she takes a last look around and quietly heads downstairs. She has to grin as she makes sure her feet are placed at either end of the steps on her way down. It feels like ages since she last did this, and yet it only been about ten days.

She heads for the study, her climbing shoes squeaking ever so slightly on the parquet but otherwise making little sound. Pushing the door open she stops. She can hear snoring coming from the darkened bedroom next door and silently moves to the desk, looking at the items on it. His phone is sitting there so she picks it up, swipes her finger across and silently groans at the fact that he hasn't even got it password protected. She finds his number and writes it down on the notepad sitting on the desk. Carefully tearing the page out, she folds it and slips it into her pocket before setting the phone down and pulling the notepad round towards her. She scribbles a message on the sheet of paper, hesitates a moment before scrawling _Kate_ underneath and leaving the notepad on top of the laptop. She finds her discarded leather jacket hanging on the back of a chair near the window, destined for the bin given the stains and the cuts, but she'll need it till she gets home.

A last glance around and she stops to stare at her likeness on the easel. She should really take it with her, make sure she leaves no traces behind, but with a sigh she turns and makes her way out of the loft. He'd probably just go and get another sketch done, and this time it would be even more accurate given the time they've spent together.

Reaching the lobby she finds Eduardo, the nigh-time doorman on duty still. She explains that she needs to get to work and her bike's in the garage downstairs but doesn't have the keys to get out. She doesn't know what, if anything he knows about her or the current situation, but apparently he's sufficiently informed not to be surprised by her attire and to accompany her down to open the door. She quickly flips the top on one of the saddle bags, swaps climbing shoes for boots and slings her leg over the bike. She feels a thrill run through her as the Softail rumbles to life and she runs it up the access ramp, waving a thank you to Eduardo as she passes him. Once out on the street she pulls up, takes a deep breath and looks around her before slipping her jacket and helmet on.

T-shirt and ripped jacket are definitely not suitable for riding a bike through New York in autumn, and by the time she makes it home she's frozen and beginning to regret leaving so early. Some of that marvellous coffee and some TLC on her back would not have gone amiss.

The flat is pokey and drab compared to his loft, and it's also cold considering she hasn't had any heat on since she left. Grabbing a blanket from the bedroom she wraps it around her shoulders before picking up her phone and calling Corrine to apologise for another day off. She runs a shallow bath, making sure the water barely reaches her waist and thus keeping her dressing dry. She's careful as she washes herself down and is soon feeling a bit warmer, especially once she's dressed in her own clothes again.

Blue jeans, purple top, a pair of three inch boots and she's ready to rumble. She empties the backpack onto the dining table sorting out the mess of ropes and climbing gear and coiling or wrapping each item carefully. Not only are they important for her occasional jobs, they are lifelines and need to be treated accordingly. The time they'd spent thrown haphazardly into the backpack could be her undoing, so each item needs to be checked and properly stored. Satisfied, she transfers them to the big sports bag which contains the rest of her equipment. The nitrogen and silicone canisters are almost empty and she needs to dispose of them carefully.

With the backpack now only containing a book, the two picture tubes and a couple of other items, she grabs her padded jacket from the back of a chair and heads back down to the street.

* * *

_**AN: Next chapter we'll be meeting someone who I think most of us like ... I hope you still like that person in this new 'skin'.**_

_**Thank you to all who have read this far, Reviewed, Fav'd or Followed; it is much appreciated.**_

_**I would also like to take the opportunity to wish you all a very Merry Christmas ... and if you don't celebrate it, I wish you all the best for the coming days anyway. **_

_**Turret**_


	27. Chapter 27

_**AN: Seeing as its Christmas tomorrow, here is a little present for under the tree ... ok, reality is I'll probably be too busy to post tomorrow! **_

* * *

**Chapter 27**

Pulling her helmet off, Kate attaches it to the lock and carefully dismounts, her back still reminding her that she needs to take things easy. Walking round the corner she heads towards the shop with Paroisse Antiques on the window.

Pushing open the door it knocks against the little brass bell on its coil which tinkles a second time as she closes it behind her. On the way to the back of the shop she passes an oak refectory table which she can just picture in Castle's loft as she runs her fingers along the polished surface, ignoring the silver candlesticks, sets of trays and other bric-a-brac scattered across it. She suddenly stops, colouring up at what her mind has just thrown at her.

She's still in that position, colour beginning to recede from her face when a voice says "_What's up girl, you wet your pants?_"

With a startled laugh she looks up to see Lanie Parish standing hands on hips watching her from the office doorway.

Giving her a hug, she warns her just in time about her back and sees the look of concern on her friend's face. She tries to deflect but Lanie Parish on a mission is a bulldog with a bone and she eventually has to give in. One look at her back and Lanie is scooting round to look at her from in front. Holding up her index finger she states flatly "_One, that is not a fall from your bike, and two _…" holding up another finger "… _someone has been treating those wounds! So …" _now glaring at her_ "… give!_"

She tries to duck out of it, heading into the office and taking a chair by the overcrowded Victorian mahogany pedestal desk, turning to face her friend and asking "_Nothing on the news?_"

"_What, about the hash up the other night? Girl! Just what are you playing at anyway ... I mean twice?_"

Kate pulls out the two tubes from the backpack and places them on the pile of paperwork in the centre of the desk. Lanie closes the office door and moves to stand by the front of the desk, pulling open a drawer and removing a pair of cotton gloves which she pulls on, her questions momentarily forgotten as she picks up the first tube, removes the top and slides the contents out.

Carefully she unrolls the Sarah Goncarova and stares down at the seascape of deep blues and bright whites. She's aware of Kate fidgeting on her chair, but ignores her as she studies the brushstrokes, the signature and quality of painting. Rolling it back up, she replaces it in its tube, recaps it and opens the second one.

The Richard Scott one is a portrait of a young girl in a black dress, smaller than the first, but of excellent quality. After several minutes of looking it over she also returns it to its tube and caps it. She picks up both tubes, pulls open a hinged mirror on the wall and places them in the safe behind. She's about to close it when Kate asks her "_Lanie, do you still have those pieces from the last one?_"

Lanie turns to look at her, eyebrows raised, "_You think I can shift them with the kind of shit the press was stirring? Those are red hot for at least another three months … why?_"

"_Could I have them back?_"

That makes Lanie turn completely round to face her "_Come again?_"

"_I said, could I have them back?_"

"_Kate Beckett, are you out of your tiny little mind! Just what's got into you, girlfriend?_"

Kate shrugs, trying to keep from blushing or otherwise give herself away to her friend, if she tells her what she really means to do with them she'll never live it down. "_I just liked them and as I've missed this month's payment, they're not really that important anymore, those should be more than enough for next month_" she says nodding at the pictures now in the safe.

"_If I can shift them for you by then yeah, but what if they're too hot after your screw up?_"

"_I'll find something else, make sure I scout the place out like always … this one was just a rush job and I shouldn't have done it that way, I know … but with the deadline coming up and just a few more bits of evidence needed _…"

Lanie watches her friend, she knows there's more to this than Kate's willing to tell her, she knows Kate. The items she steals mean nothing to her, they're only a means to an end. So why should she suddenly get attached to a few of pieces of jewe … oh! … "_It's that writer guy you like isn't it … you telling me you're gonna get sentimental over some bling you took off the guy?_"

"_It's not that Lanie!_" She tries for outrage and hopes she's not colouring up, "_I just happen to like those pieces!_"

Lanie decides to let it go, they're too hot at the moment to move anyway and she doesn't like sitting on stolen items for any longer than strictly necessary, it's one reason why she's not even on the cops' radar, that and the fact that she only deals with Kate and a couple of other 'professionals'. Giving a shrug she turns back to the safe and removes a small bag before closing the safe and pushing the mirror back into place.

With a sigh she hands Kate the felt bag and says _"I jus' hope you know what you're doin' babe_"

They spend another hour chatting and drinking one of Lanie's herbal teas which Kate doesn't really like but would never dream of saying so to her friend. When Lanie steps out of the office to deal with a customer, Kate pulls out the felt bag and tips the contents into her palm. Four pieces of jewellery glint back at her, a mocking reminder of her messed-up burglary. With a shake of her head she returns them to the bag, pulls the draw cord tight, knots it and slips it into the pocket of her coat, making sure the zip's pulled up closed. The last thing she needs is to lose them.

When Lanie returns to the office she sits down and puts on her serious face. "_Ok, we done with our chit-chat and the yours is nicer than mine crap, now tell me girl, where you been for the last twenty-four hours?_"

Kate shakes her head, "_Look Lanie, I'll tell you ok, just give me some time to get things sorted in my own head will you?_" She's almost pleading which is not the Kate Beckett style, so after glaring at her for a few moments, Lanie decides to let it go, she knows she'll hear about it eventually, and she can't help feeling worried, but if her friend needs time, she'll give her some.

* * *

**_AN: Paroisse is Parish in French_**


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

It is a morning of notes. The first has been the one he's found on top of his laptop which has him running up the stairs to find an empty and orderly spare bedroom. The second one is on the kitchen island, informing him that his daughter has left him to sleep as he must have been up late writing and the third is from his mother warning him not to wake her up as she's only just made it home in the early hours.

He's now sitting on one of the stools, the over-bright October daylight filtering through the windows and casting blocks of near white sheen across floor and furniture. The time is a few minutes to mid-day and yet it feels like quiet dawn in the loft. The pale light, the silence … the boredom.

He picks up the first note again, written on his own notepaper, with his own pen and in a totally unknown hand. Well at least now he knows what her handwriting is like; firm and round and unadorned … a bit like Kate he thinks … well her character at least, there was certainly nothing unadorned about her physique or appearance!

* * *

_Dear Castle,_

_ Thank you for all your care and attention. There is a lot I don't know about how you found me and why you've treated me as you have and obviously there is a lot more you want to know about me. But right now I just need some space to sort things in my own head. I know I owe you much more and I will contact you when I can. Please don't take this in the wrong way. _

_Kate _

* * *

It's about the fourth time he's read the note and he's not sure if it's just because he wants to re-read the text or want to try and keep a bit of her alive and in the loft. Not that she's dead of course, he hastily reprimands himself, but … well … with a sigh he drops it on the counter and picks up the second note.

* * *

_Dad!_

_ Off to school, didn't wake you because I thought you might have been writing. Don't expect me till later, going with Paige to the movies._

_ Love you! xxx_

* * *

He has to smile at her note, it is so like Alexis to let him know what she's planning to do and to make him feel happy and sad and proud and worried all at the same time. He's not sure why he should be worried about Paige and her going to the movies … but he can't help it!

The third note he feels like picking up with oven gloves and barbecue tongs, but he makes an effort and holds it between thumb and finger as he reads the contents.

* * *

_Dear Richard,_

_ Do not wake me under any circumstances …. short of an earthquake or the second coming! Long night and I need my beauty sleep. _

_ Martha_

* * *

He swears he can smell the alcohol fumes wafting off the paper. With a sigh he places them all in a pile on the counter and heads back to his bathroom for a shower. He needs to get some more writing done, but right now he's feeling a bit flat and he's not sure why. He gets himself a coffee before going upstairs again and grabbing the clothes and bed sheets from the spare bedroom. He's tossing each item into the washing machine when he gets to the bathrobe. Something makes him pick it up and hold it to his nose. He can smell her, her scent and the overpowering smell of the anti-inflammatory gel he'd massaged into her arm and shoulder. Not the nicest smell he has to admit as he scrunches his nose up. With a sigh he adds it to the other items and turns the machine on.

By late afternoon he's fleshed out some of the ideas for the story, he's whittled down the principal characters' names to a shortlist of three each, he's agreed to a book signing next week at Darcy's Bookstore on the corner of Houston and Broadway just to keep Gina happy and he's ignored three calls and two messages from Paula. He probably shouldn't have told Gina he was writing afresh … at least not until he had something to present the two witches with!

He mashes out the first chapter, the shadowy presentation of his mysterious avenger as she sits atop the spire of the Chrysler Building observing the city spread out below her, the wind ruffling her hair, her leather suit blending into the darkness around her …. He has to grin; maybe kinky is better than slutty!

The villain also gets unofficially presented, initially just the head of a technological company, no better, no worse than anyone else. He'll slowly develop the darker side of Brandon Hale's character … assuming he sticks with that name … he prefers it to Victor Conrad or Kyle Cross the other two shortlisted names, but sometimes he finds his characters suggesting their own names as he develops them.

She's still a mysterious character as he has her climbing up the façade of the Hale Building and accessing the air vents to the air conditioning plant, her green eyes observing the spinning blades as she calculates the right moment to roll between them. He leads his reader through the second set of blades, past the side tunnels and through the vent which gives onto the hallway of the thirty-fifth floor.

As she lands in a crouch, silent as a shadow in the dimly lit corridor, Nikki Heat asses her surroundings … yeah, he'll go with Nikki Heat for the moment; it says everything about his mental picture of his new heroine, the ass-kicking avenger.

With a sigh he saves the work and leans back in his chair, a contented smile on his face. It's only a first draft and it will need a lot of work still, but his creative juices are flowing once more and he can feel the bubbling creativity flooding his body again, something which hadn't happened for over eight months, or even longer. He gets up and goes to stand in front of the sketch again. A thought comes to him and he takes a snap with his camera, he wants the image available to him whenever he might need it. In fact he should have taken a picture of her whilst she was in the loft, it had never even occurred to him!

He thinks about heading for Greene Street and canvasing every building in search of a post box with Kate on it, but then maybe its Katherine or Kathy or maybe just her surname … which of course he doesn't know. And maybe if she did see him she'd just go into hiding. No he'll give her a few days … although now he comes to think of it, he does know where she works, so tomorrow, assuming she's back to riding her bike … a grin begins to spread across his face.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

She enters Bagel Bob's for her usual mid-morning coffee and is handing over the cash when Bob pushes her hand away, "_It's paid for Kate_" he says.

She looks at him in surprise "_What do you mean it's paid for?_"

Bob shrugs, "_Must be an admirer of yours, came in yesterday and left some money for your coffee_"

"_What was he like?_"

"_Umm, tall guy, pretty good lookin' I'd say … though not my type_ …" he grins, "… _mid-to-late thirties, expensive watch, asked me what coffee 'Kate, the girl with the Harley' took and left the cash when I told him. I didn't peg him for the crazy type, but I can always let the cops know if he comes in again?_"

She's not happy, not happy at all. The writer is invading her life in so many ways that she doesn't know how to react but shakes her head at the last part "_No Bob, that's Ok, just a guy I met a few days ago_"

"_You must have made an impression_" he grins and ignoring her raised eyebrows turns to serve the next customer.

His rather cryptic remark becomes clearer to her as the next day she finds her coffee seems to have been paid for again. Having confirmed it _was_ Castle by showing Bob his picture from the fly cover of _Storm Fall_, she tries to get Bob to take her money and return whatever Castle left to him the next time he calls in. For whatever reason, she can't get Bob to agree, even her threatening to start using Amorino's doesn't sway him.

Her glares and stubbornly held out money are totally ignored by Bob who seems to be enjoying himself rather inordinately. Her frustration is directed more at the way her previously organised life seems to be slipping out of her control, little bit by little bit … and it can all be traced back to her decision to hit Castle's loft. What is it about him that has made everything go pear-shaped?

On the other hand she can hardly complain after what he's done for her so far. The bruising looks pretty awful, but in actual fact her shoulder is on the mend, the stiffness almost gone and the soreness reduced. The minor cuts are just simple red scratches right now which will soon heal and disappear. The three deeper ones are healing nicely, scabs formed and simple plasters being enough to cover them. The deeper cut lower down is still giving her a bit of trouble, though it is getting better. Soon she won't need Lanie's ministrations … and bites her lip as she remembers the feel of Castle's hands and breath on her back.

Next day, Bob has an even broader grin on his face as he hands her the coffee. It takes her a moment to spot the **_Morning Gorgeous_** written with a marker pen on the side. She scowls at Bob but has to turn away to bite her lip and hide the smile that's threatening to break out any moment. She quickly scans the room but he's not there. She hates to admit it but the already good coffee seems to taste even better recently.

She carries her coffee out and stands in the street, sipping and looking around her, wondering if he's watching her right now. She should feel totally creeped out, but strangely enough she's not. With a shake of her head she carries her now empty coffee cup into the UMS premises and places it inside her locker. There's a guilty look to her face as she closes the door, but no one notices.

Her mid-morning coffees have now become a game it would appear. Her Wednesday morning one had **_Wednesday's coffee will help you glow_** written on the mug. She'd looked suspiciously first at the cup and then at Bob, who'd just shrugged and grinned. He was getting way too much fun out of this for her liking. Having decided that Castle couldn't have put radioactive goo or any other 'glowing' substance into it, she'd taken it and ended up adding it to the other one in her locker.

Yesterday's cup had **_Thursday's coffee has far to go_** on it and today's says **_Friday's coffee is lovely and warming_** … its then she realises he's messing around with the Monday's Child poem. She has to grin, not only because of his crazy antics, but because of the fact that she had no doubt that he's wondering how long it will take her to catch on. Before heading home that day she goes in to Bagel Bob's, asks for a cup and the marker and leaves her own message on a cup with precise instructions.

The week has given her back and shoulder time to heal and allow her to do some gentle stretching exercises. She can feel the deepest cut pull and makes sure she doesn't overdo it. There's been nothing on the news or in the press about her break-in in the Bowery. She's hoping it will all die down and with Lanie holding onto the two pictures, she decides to set her non-legal activities to one side for the moment.

She spends the weekend at her Dad's cabin, taking long walks with him and making sure they spend quality time together. He's been sober now for a couple of years and she wants to make sure he remains so. She also needs the time to be alone, away from everything that distracts her. There is a lot she has to think about and the peace and quiet of the woods gives her the opportunity to think things through without disruptions.

**_Monday's coffee is first base_** and a second line saying **_Something harder next time then … smarty-pants!_** is the inscription on her cup and she has to laugh. Looking up at the shelf where Bob had placed her own inscribed cup, she can see it's no longer there. Two can play at this game Castle!

Tuesday morning he's sitting at his usual table in Amorino's and has to grin as he watches her walk out of Bagel Bob's with her coffee cup in hand. As usual she props herself on the small buttress by the doorway, face up to the morning sun and sips her coffee. He doesn't miss the occasional twist she gives the cup or the twitch of her lips as she reads the inscription. Today's was **_You're amazing_** and he can't help grinning at how quickly she'd caught on to him. He'd had to laugh as Bob had handed him the cup when he'd gone in on Saturday which read **_You'll need to work _****_harder_****_ for a living_** telling him he'd been rumbled.

* * *

**Monday's child poem**

Monday's child is fair of face,  
Tuesday's child is full of grace,  
Wednesday's child is full of woe,  
Thursday's child has far to go,  
Friday's child is loving and giving,  
Saturday's child works hard for his living,  
And the child that is born on the Sabbath day  
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.


	30. Chapter 30

**_Chapter 30_**

They enjoy the curry Martha has prepared for dinner and after clearing up, the three of them sit down to watch Slumdog Millionaire. As soon as it's over, Alexis kisses them both goodnight and heads up to bed whilst Martha waves a hand at Castle and grabs her coat before leaving the loft.

Castle goes into the study and sits down at his desk. He's soon working on the draft of the next chapter, fingers flying across the keyboards, black characters filling the screen as his mental images are converted to text. He's interrupted by the _New Message_ tone on his phone. Picking it up, he swipes the screen and finds a message from an unknown number. **_Terrace_** it says. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise followed by a slow grin. He can think of only one 'stranger' who would send such a cryptic and place-orientated message.

He saves his work and quickly makes his way up to the doorway leading up out onto the terrace. It takes him too long to turn off the alarm and unlock the door before making his way out into the chilly night, his excitement making him fumble. Flicking the switch by the door, he looks around as several lights come on around the terrace. Shadows spring to life chasing each other across paving stones, up bushes and over parapets, the previously uniform greys and blacks taking on the vibrant browns, greens and greys of their highlighted pigments.

Looking around him, Castle can't see anyone. Walking forwards towards the seating area in the centre he spies something on the stone table. Approaching, he can make out a small bag placed almost in the centre. Picking it up he moves towards one of the lamps and realises he's holding a soft felt pouch of the type jeweller's use. Tipping the contents out into his palm he looks down at the four glittering items which he recognises as his mother's missing jewels.

He moves to the corner of the terrace and looks across to the nearby rooftops, shading his eyes and trying to make out if she's standing on one of them. The glare from the street lights below and those of the terrace make the details of the darkened rooftops opposite indistinguishable, so he just waves in the hope that she is still there and returns to the loft, hesitating a moment about relocking the door, but eventually deciding its best as he also resets the alarm.

He re-enters the study and sits down at his desk, contemplating the felt bag which he can now make out is a deep purple colour. Should he return the jewels to his mother just yet? If he does, he'll have to come up with a story of how he got them back and he'll also have to inform the insurance and police, otherwise if she does happen to get paparazzi'd wearing her supposedly missing pieces, he's going to be in deep shit.

If he goes with the sms and terrace, the police will be able to trace her number and he doesn't want to give them that just yet … if at all … to be honest. Maybe he can get a note done which he can say he found under his door … although that could put Charlie or Eduardo in a spot. He decides to hang on to them for a little while, until he can sort something out which won't come back to bite him in the ass.

Picking up the phone he adds her number to his contacts list and then sends a return message, **_Thanks very much, still hoping for that chat_**

Almost immediately he gets an answer, **_I'll contact you at the weekend, thanks for the coffees!_**

He grins at the message, next weekend is too far away as far as he's concerned but at least she hasn't refused to talk … yet. He sends back **_I guess your back must be better?_**

**_Much better, I owe you_** … then a few seconds later **_Again_**

**_I'm not counting them_** he sends back

**_Yeah, right!_**

He decides he'd prefer to talk, so he dials the number. As soon as she answers he says, "_Just wanted to make sure you're ok. If you need anyone to change dressings, or apply some gel_ …" he allows the suggestiveness in his voice to peter out and grins as he imagines her scowl at the second part of his comment. "_No, seriously, I just wanted to make sure you were ok, and I do mean the other part, seriously, if you need me to change those dressings. You know where I am_"

"_So, what, you just want to rub it in?_" she can't help the twitch of her own lips as she hears the double meaning of her own words hit home and has to chuckle as she hears him laugh.

He hears the rumble of a Harley kicking into life through the phone and guesses she's made her way down to the street. She confirms it by saying, "_Anyway Castle, I need to go_"

"_Ok, ride safe_" is all he can come up with and almost hits himself at how stupid and mundane that sounds. But she doesn't laugh at him and just answers "_Will do_" before cutting the call.

He sits there for several moments staring at the phone and running over the 'conversation' he's just had. Eventually he sets the phone down on the desk and turns on the story board. He taps on the recently created folder called _Kate_ and spreads the contents out over the screen.

At the top of the screen sits a photo of the police sketch he has on the easel, he wanted to take a picture of her whilst she was in the loft, but decided against risking it; it might have been enough for Kate to walk out if she'd caught him. Next to her picture is the scanned image of the sketch which had appeared in the press, he doesn't know why he'd put it there but initially he wanted all the information he had on her in one place.

Next to the picture is _Kate's Story_ the Word document where he'd typed out all the information she'd given him about herself. It wasn't verbatim, but pretty close to what she'd said. He'd also inserted questions and thoughts that had popped into his head as he'd been writing the information down. These questions and comments related to items that he'd like her to expand on, questions for the Nikki Heat character … assuming he went with that name … and ideas he'd had about her Mom's case.

Alongside that is the subfolder containing the photographed sheets from the report Espo and Ryan had let him see, and the next three items are the map showing the robberies he assumes are or could be related to Kate, his own notes about these and the interviews he'd had with those fellow victims who had been willing to talk to him and a third document which contains ideas gleaned from all of these and which could come in handy for his book.

A final document is titled _Diary_ and contains a daily account of his dealings with her, whether from afar such as when he watches her from Amorino's or when interacting with her such as during her stay at the loft. Opening it up, he adds the recent conversation to the end, smiling as he remembers the bantering tone.


	31. Chapter 31

**_Chapter 31_**

He signs his name with a flourish, closes the cover and hands the book to the woman who's eying him like he's her next meal, his smile falters slightly but he manages to slap it back in place, utter the usual pleasantries and slides his eyes over to the next person in line, hoping she'll get the message. He hears a slightly frustrated huff and has to hide a real smile as she turns away, sliding her book into the carrier bag as the young student type makes his way up to the table.

He's been going for three hours, the smile now a fixture on his face though his eyes are slightly glazed. It's not that he doesn't appreciate his fans, it's just that after a morning of repetitive phrases and signing of books he's beginning to feel like an automaton. He needs a coffee break, so he decides he'll sign another five books and then head to the back of the shop where Gina and Helen Darcy had set up a little rest area for him protected from the general public by a few strategically placed shelves and Derick Storm paraphernalia.

Mind still on the coffee which is almost making his mouth salivate, he takes the book from the next fan and slides the cover open, "_Who shall I make it out to?_" he asks as he picks up the pen he'd previously dropped on the table in order to flex his fingers.

"_Um, you could make it out to Kate if you like _…"

His eyes shoot up to the smiling figure before him and then has to suck in a breath when he realises he's stopped breathing. He can see _that_ has her laughing at him and he grins back sheepishly, not only is this vision of Kate different, she's wearing a blue blazer over a red top and dark grey pants, but she also appears to be taller, though that could simply be because he's sitting and she's not!

* * *

_Kate,_

_I couldn't think of a better partner in crime._

_Richard Castle_

* * *

As soon as he's signed his name he's slapping the cover closed and places his hand on the book as she goes to pick it up. "_I've a break in about five minutes, would you … mind hanging around? Maybe have a coffee?_"

"_Am I going to get the third degree?_"

He shakes his head, "_Just a how are you and how's your back chat_" he grins

"_You going to give me backchat Castle?_"

"_You've no idea how much I'd like to!_"

And she can't help colouring at the look in his eyes and quickly points to one of the bookshelves near the back, "_I'll be looking at Patterson's books over there_" she says, eyes laughing at his hurt look.

The next three books take forever to sign and then he's signalling Gina he needs a break. She turns to those still waiting in the queue and along with Helen, lets the fans know what's happening whilst he stands, stretches and quickly goes in search of Kate.

He finds her flicking through Patterson's _The Dangerous Days of Daniel X _and scowls, unawares that she has purposefully picked up that book as soon as she sees him standing up, the mischievous look in her eyes hidden by the fact she's staring down at the novel in her hands. He's still surprised by her height and a look at her feet shows him why._ Wow! Those must be four inches at least! _he thinks.

_"So … coffee?" _he asks, unceremoniously removing the book from her hands and deliberately slotting it into the wrong shelf and back to front, eyebrows raised as he waits for her to say something about it. She has to bite her lip to hold in the laughter and simply nods to him. He places his hand to the small of her back and she can't help catching her breath as he gently leads her to the secluded corner at the back, it's not just the heat and comfort of his large hand on that particular spot, it's also what he's written in the book … that is such an intimate and yet funny comment, she hadn't been able to resist looking at it as soon as she'd cleared the table. Nor is her pulse improved on catching the look Gina throws their way. She's aware they are no longer a couple, but she could be forgiven for thinking she's got that wrong.

_"Tell me, how's your back?"_ he asks as he hands her a cup of coffee and they sit down at the table. It's curiously intimate and thrillingly public at the same time, the fact that they are hidden by books and cut-out figures and boxes, yet only feet away from dozens of people who can be heard talking and browsing ...

She has to make an effort to get her brain back to the question and his laughing eyes aren't making it any easier. She takes a sip of the coffee to buy herself some time, and then realising she's taking much too long, answers with a slightly flustered_ "Fine, everything's fine!"_

Recognizing she's behaving like a clueless idiot she groans and drops her head into her hand despairingly. Hearing him chuckle she raises her face and says_ "Mind if we start again?"_

_"So Kate, how's your back?"_

_"Fine thanks, I'm finally able to get around again without acting like Quasimodo"_

He has to chuckle at her choice of character,_ "Yeah, so I gathered from the present you left me last night, I hoped we might have had the rest of our talk by now, but I'm hoping the weekend is still on"_

_"Yeah, I'm good with that, so long as I still have the option to back out when I want to?"_

He nods, looking across the table at her and lowering his voice slightly as they hear a couple of people browsing books from the shelf behind him._ "How about coming for lunch on Saturday, both my mother and Alexis will be out for the day, which gives us the whole afternoon to talk … unless of course you have other plans?"_

She could get out of this so easily by saying yes and though part of her wants to do so, another part is thrilled at the idea of having lunch with Richard Castle, not that she hasn't done so before, but_ … well, oh shit just go with it Kate! _

She looks up at him from under her lashes and those blue eyes of his are drilling right through her and she can't help the slight flush climbing up her neck and is too short of breath to answer so she goes with a nod of her head and is rewarded with a brilliant smile which seems to sooth her ruffled feelings and brings out her own answering smile.

His hand reaches across the table and settles over hers and gives a gentle squeeze. It sets her nerve ends on fire again and she almost misses his "_I need to get back to the fans or Gina will kill me. See you on Saturday then?_"

He stands and brushes past her, letting his hand rest a moment on her shoulder and she just sits there for several minutes after he's left, wondering just what is happening to her. Eventually she shakes herself out of her reverie and picking up her copy of _Storm Fall_, turns to leave.

She almost jumps as she finds Gina glaring at her from a few feet away, but decides to just smile and walks past, biting her lip to stop the laughter bubbling up inside her. As she pushes the door to the street open she turns her head to look back at the writer. Whether he senses her or it's just a coincidence she can't tell, but he looks up from the book he's signing and meets her eyes. He winks at her and she has to laugh as she pushes her way out onto the crowded sidewalk.

* * *

_**AN: Am off on a '4x4 raid' trip into the Atlas Mountains and dessert of Morocco for about ten days at the beginning of the New Year. Internet access will be sporadic to say the least, so will try to upload chapters whenever possible. Normal service will resume by the 15th. Thanks for your patience and continued interest! **_


	32. Chapter 32

**_Chapter 32_**

Saturday dawns cold and bathed in brittle light, the bare trees doing little to detract from the overall sense of inhospitality as shoppers and pedestrians walk rapidly, heads down, each apparently in isolation from the rest.

Castle is glad to find himself back in the building, shopping banging against his legs as he manoeuvres through the door Charlie is holding open for him.

"_Your daughter and mother left about twenty minutes ago, Mister Castle, said to let you know they won't be back till late as they intend to catch a show in the evening_"

Castle thanks him for the information and heads up to the loft, pleased to have even more time than he'd expected to spend with Kate, if he can convince her to stay on. He places the shopping on the island and starts emptying the bags and putting the items away. As soon as he's finished, he heads to the bedroom and changes into a pair of jeans and a blue oxford shirt before heading back to the kitchen to get started.

Just in case, he grabs his phone and sends **_Lunch will be ready at 1, though you're welcome to come earlier_**.

It's about ten minutes before he gets an answer with **_1 will be fine, want me to bring anything?_**

**_Just yourself and an appetite_** he answers, before putting the phone down and beginning on the preparations.

She's inexplicably nervous as she steps out of the lift and heads to the door, bottle of wine in a carrier bag swinging from one hand and her red coat draped over her other arm. On reaching the door she stops and checks herself in the mirror behind the half-moon table holding a vase and flowers which occupies the end wall. Her hair is neat, untouched by helmet as she's decided to come by cab rather than use her Harley. The grey jersey top hangs over her bootcut jeans, the oversized matching scarf hanging loose round her neck whilst her brown suede boots add four inches to her height.

She thinks she looks ok … well better than ok, but it is lunch with Castle and … _hell Kate, it's not a date for gods sakes, get a grip!_ And with that she takes a deep breath and knocks on the door.

It seems to her she's barely rapped on the wood when it swings open and he's standing there, a hundred watt smile on his face, eyes crinkling at the corners and he's ushering her in. There's a lovely smell of … mushrooms, that's it, and herbs and something else she can't quite make out though it's familiar.

He takes her coat from her and opens the closet by the door to put it away, then his hand is at the small of her back as he guides her round towards the kitchen, asking how she is, has her back healed properly, how he hopes she likes what he's prepared and it dawns on her that she isn't the only one feeling nervous at the prospect of this lunch come meeting come date which isn't a date. It helps to calm her down this realization that the cool Mister Castle seems to be as nervous about this as she is.

She suddenly remembers the wine and places the carrier bag on the counter, managing a slightly shy "_I brought this, I hope you like it, it's my favourite_ …" and petering out as she wonders why the hell she's even given him that bit of information.

"_Well then in that case we'll open it for lunch, I'm sure I'll love it as well_" and as she takes in his grin and the look he's giving her it's no wonder her corpuscles get a work out every time she's with him as she feels her colour rising once again.

The dining table is already laid out so once he's opened the bottle he sets it down to breathe a little before opening the oven door and pulling out the rack, the smell of grilled mushrooms and cheese flooding the kitchen and making her stomach rumble in anticipation. They both laugh and he's asking her to grab a couple of plates he's placed in the bottom of the oven to warm up, telling her to be careful and use oven gloves. As she takes them out she notices an oven dish which is also emitting a lovely herby scent and wonders what the second course is, shaking her head at the work he's done.

He slides a couple of large field mushrooms stuffed with gorgonzola and topped with toasted and roughly chopped walnuts and thyme sprigs onto each plate, grabs a handful of rocket leaves from a bowl by the sink and drops them on each plate.

Asking her to grab the bottle they move to the table where he sets the plates down and then pulls the chair out for her. She smiles her thanks and sits down, her mind racing at just what having lunch with Richard Castle involves. Is this the usual or is he going out of his way to make her feel special? Not that she'd been expecting a takeaway pizza, not after spending a couple of days here … but it wouldn't have surprised her either.

"_Penny for them?_" and suddenly she's seeing him watching her with a quizzical look in his eyes and realises she must have zoned out.

"_Sorry, I was just surprised at all of this …_" waving her hand around.

He shrugs, "_I enjoy cooking. As an only child and with my mother working crazy hours when she could get the work, I soon picked up the basics so I could get myself something to eat if she wasn't around. Then Alexis came along … and her mother walked out on us … and I had to make sure my daughter got a well-balanced diet_" he grins at her, "_takeaway pizzas and Chinese are fine for weekends or emergencies, but she needed proper meals. Then as she got older we started to spend weekends and holidays cooking together, we have great fun even if she doesn't appreciate all my inventions … ungrateful girl!_"

She has to laugh at his pouting look and then she's humming in appreciation as the mushroom and cheese and thyme fill her mouth with flavours and aromas. Her mind is also thinking about what he's said, his wife walking out on him? Spending weekends and holidays cooking with his daughter? The more she gets to know him the wider the gap between her preconception and the reality of Richard Castle.

Next up is Italian style chicken with slices of prosciutto ham, sun-dried tomatoes, cannellini beans and the flavours of garlic and basil. The chicken melts in her mouth and she's humming in pleasure as she copies Castle in dipping the garlic bread into the sauce. She pauses a moment when she sees he's staring at her and raises an enquiring eyebrow. He waves his finger around his chin and then reaches out and wipes the corner of her mouth with his thumb.


	33. Chapter 33

**_Chapter 33_**

Time seems to stand still for several seconds as she absorbs the fact that he's just done that. Her wide, green eyes move from his thumb, still hovering close to her mouth to his eyes which are looking at her in something close to trepidation. She remembers that survival includes breathing and once she's processed the thought, she lets her pent up breath out. Finally she gives him a nod of thanks and picks up another piece of bread, trying desperately to ignore the sauce-covered thumb which is still hovering a few inches away.

It takes Rick several more seconds to get his mind in gear and he quickly withdraws his hand and grabs his wine glass, almost choking as he takes a swallow of the rather pleasant Seghesio. For the next minute there's a bit of an awkward silence, then, glancing at her, he catches her biting her lip and trying to smother a grin. His own somewhat relieved smile makes her burst out laughing and the awkwardness dissipates amongst the comments on how good the sauce is, that it came from a recipe he'd picked up on a book tour in Colorado and how garlic bread always adds a touch of something extra.

"_Desert's plum, hazelnut and chocolate cake, would you like some now or have a coffee and maybe some cake and coffee a bit later?_"

"_Oof!_" she says, patting her tum, "_I think a coffee is all I can manage right now, but the cake sounds great for later_"

They clear the table, put all the dirty items in the dishwasher and eventually head over to the couch, Castle carrying both coffee cups. They settle down, facing each other as she sits with one leg up on the couch, booted ankle tucked under her other leg. She fidgets a bit and then asks if he minds if she takes her boots off. He offers to help, but she shakes her head, stands and heads over to the door where she pulls them off and places them neatly side by side against the wall. When she returns, she sits on the couch and tucks both feet under her, letting out a sigh of satisfaction which has him grinning at her.

"_So …_" and there's a momentary hesitation before he decides to take the plunge _"… you were doing your sideline act at the messenger service, what happened to make you change … your act?_"

She has to grin at his rather diplomatic terminology, puts her cup down and sits back resting an elbow on the back of the couch as she runs her fingers through her hair, staring all the while at her other hand which is nervously picking at the seams of her jeans. "_I followed instructions for about four months, built up sufficient credit each month for Valote to carry out his investigation on my Mom's case. I was able to slowly build up a file with all sorts of information that I'd never even heard of before … nothing conclusive, but enough to begin to build a picture of what she was doing in the area where she was found …_" she shrugs, taking a deep breath as she continues. "_Then, about mid-may I walked in and the place was full of Narcs. I thought I was for the high jump, but after spending most of the day hanging around the precinct, having my clothes and bike tested for traces of dope, waiting to be interviewed, it turned out that they were after Joe …" _she looks up at him_ "… the dispatcher-come-manager and two of the messengers_"

Leaning over to take another sip of coffee, she sets the cup down again and settles back. "_It got me to thinking that maybe the whole thing was just some front for the mob. I'd been there for about six months when Valote approached me over the documents thing. The two messengers the cops kept asking about had been working there a lot longer. Most of the others had been working there for less time than me. Maybe there was a sort of hierarchy … the longer you worked there the higher you progressed_ …" she shrugs "… _anyway, it made me think that maybe Rico's death was some drugs deal gone wrong … made more sense than it being over stolen documents. I spent most of the day in a funk, waiting for the hand on my shoulder, but luckily no one said anything … I realised later that Joe must have known all along, even though I was 'requesting' …_" here she used her fingers to make quotation marks, "… _certain routes, and he obviously wasn't going to add to his own troubles. He'd probably been the one to leave the notes in my locker, which would explain why I never saw anyone; he'd know when I was out on a run_"

Kate pauses here and they both finish their coffees, Rick's brow furrowed as he works through the information she's given him.

"_So you think the mob was using the messenger service to shift drugs around the Manhattan and using the documents they could get their hands on for what … maybe insider trading?_"

She nods, "_Who's going to stop a messenger? They're easy to recognise, part of the scenery, cops aren't even going to consider them in the same thought as dealers. It's a pretty easy way to get packages from point a to point b, no questions asked. They probably got caught because they used the same pick-up or drop-off addresses too much. I guess if Narcotics suspected an address was being used for dealing and the same messenger kept appearing_ …" again she shrugs, "… _its only supposition, but it makes sense to me_"

"_So the cops stake out the dealer, stake out the messenger service, work out who's involved, don't realise what you're doing because you're not sent with those packages … yeah makes sense … close call though_" he adds.

She nods in assent. "_I realised then and there, that if I was to continue getting information off Valote, I'd have to change … my activities … I couldn't risk being involved in something I had no control over. It scared the pants off me that I could have been involved in moving dope around without even being aware of it!_"

"_One of the girls I'd been working with called me up to say she'd found work with University Messenger Services and that there was a vacancy if I got my ass down there quick. I decided to take the job. If I thought there was anything suspicious I'd get out quick, but at least it gave me the chance to pay my bills_"

Licking her lips she continues, "_I'd been into enough high-end properties delivering messages to realise that there was quite a bit of stuff lying around that would be easy to take and would cover my needs. It took a lot of soul searching but, it was either that or cut the supply of information over my Mom's murder _…" she peters out here looking at him almost in despair.

He can't help but place his hand on hers where it rests on the back of the couch and gives it a gentle squeeze. For a moment she just stares at his hand covering hers and then takes a deep breath before continuing. "_I decided that if I was going to get involved in that sort of thing I needed to train up a bit and I also set out some ground rules for myself_"

* * *

_**AN: First of all, I'd like to wish you all a very Happy New Year's party (or whatever) and all the best for 2014!**_

_**Tomorrow will be an early start for us driving down to Algeciras (next to Gibraltar) and getting the ferry across to Ceuta, then it will be a drive down the Moroccan coast to Rabat. Should be able to update from the hotel so until then, have fun all of you. :)**_


	34. Chapter 34

**_Chapter 34_**

"_Ground rules?_" he asks

She nods, and watches him for a moment. Then, reaching for her neck, she pulls out a chain and gently holds the object dangling from the end in her hand. Rick can make out a ring with a round, double cut emerald. "_This is my Mom's ring … it isn't particularly valuable … not moneywise at any rate, but to me, it's the most precious thing I have_ ..." trailing off she looks up at him "… _what I'm trying to say is that I would willingly lose any possession I have before losing this_"

Seeing him nod in understanding, she slips the chain and ring back inside her top and continues. "_I decided_ …"

"_You'd only steal new and modern items, nothing that might hold deep sentimental values!_" he interrupts her.

She looks up at him startled by his comment "_Yes, ho … how did you know?_"

"_I'll explain later, carry on_ .."

She gives him a glare but he seems oblivious to it so she continues "_I also decided I'd only take items that would probably be insured, easily replaced and from those who could afford to do both _…"

"_Like me_" he grins

"_Yeah, well that was my first mistake .. anyway_ …"

"_How about another coffee and some cake?_" he asks

She glares at him again, one minute the guy can't wait to hear everything she has to say, next minute he's interrupting her every few minutes! However the idea of cake and coffee sounds good, so she nods, stands up with him and they move to the kitchen counter.

The cake, when he takes it out of the tin looks incredibly appetizing and he cuts two thick slices which he places on plates and then covers in cream whilst the coffee machine gurgles away making more coffee.

"_If you carry on feeding me like this Castle, I won't fit through any windows anyway_" she says and then realises all the implications that phrase holds. _Oh my god! Like he's going to think I mean he can …_

But he's laughing and saying she's welcome to come be fed any time and his eyebrows are waggling in that suggestive way he has and she is not going to colour up or pretend she doesn't know where he's going with that and if she was still wearing her boots she'd be almost level with him and would glare him down, but right now she feels small and not uncomfortable and that cake looks delicious, so she goes with "_In your dreams Castle!_"

"_Most of my dreams come true Kate, and whilst we're on the matter, I can live without knowing your surname, but don't you think it would be better if I knew it?_"

"_Why?_"

"_Why? Well … what if something happens to you ... say you have an accident or something, how am I supposed to find you? I can hardly go round a hospital or … or, wherever asking if anyone knows a Kate_ …"

She's dumbstruck by his words as they thunder round her brain, bouncing and echoing and sparking a hundred different thoughts which puff into smoke as the next takes hold. _He'd go looking for her in a hospital, he'd care if she was hurt, who the hell does he think he is, she doesn't need him or anyone else, he seems so genuinely concerned, why would he care anyway, he'd want to find her _…

He can see the panic in her eyes and lays a hand on hers where it's fisted on the counter next to the coffee cup. "_Kate, forget it, it doesn't matter. You can tell me when you want to, I promise I won't push!_"

His hand, his worried eyes, the soft, warm tone of his voice helps to anchor her, to bring the merry-go-round in her head to a stop, the final comment seeming to drop like a stone in a silent pond … _when_ she wants to … not _if_ she wants to … _is he that confident about her?_ Well she's certainly poured her secrets out to him in a way she would never have believed … and most importantly, she doesn't feel threatened by his knowledge, worried, yes, though worried more about the ease with which he's able to draw her secrets from her than what he will actually do with them.

And he could so easily discover her name, just go to UMS and ask for it, any excuse like he's hit her bike or she's scratched his car and they'd give him her surname. In fact, she's surprised he hasn't already.

"_You ok?_" he asks.

She nods, looking up at him and seeing the concern on his face she gives him a wan smile, and shrugs apologetically, "_Sorry, not used to sharing and that kind of spooked me_"

"_Ok, let's just finish our cake and talk about something else … like what books do you read?_" and there's that playfulness again, the enquiring eyebrow and little boy look. She smacks him on the arm and lets out a relieved laugh, _back onto safe ground_.

She tells him she only bought _Storm Fall_ out of curiosity, that she prefers James Patterson or Michael Connelly, but he's quick to catch her on that, if she's only read _Storm Fall_, and that must have been pretty recently, how can she judge that, surely she'd have to read several of his to make it an unbiased judgement, and it catches her out, so she has to admit to having read _At Dusk We Die_ and _A Skull at Springtime_, and that has him snapping his fingers at her and accusing her of being a secret fan, that nobody read those unless they were.

She's in hot denial, claiming she came across them in a second-hand bookstall and picked them up to read for when she was bored at work. She's trying to keep a straight face and he's glaring at her out of slit eyes, trying to make her 'fess up and before she realises it the cake's finished, as is the coffee and they're back to the relaxed atmosphere of earlier on. She has to hand it to him, he can push her buttons! Mind you, she reckons she can push his just as easily.

They move back to the couch and settle down again, back in their original positions, and marshalling her thoughts, she takes up where they'd left off earlier.

"_Anyway, first things first, I had to be able to get into places and busting down front doors or picking locks wasn't something I could do. I spent some time trying to work out how I'd get into my own place, and decided that through a window offered the best chance ... I mean, I wasn't exactly trained up in Mission Impossible gadgetry or anything like that. I picked up some books on glazing, window repairs and construction, the locksmith trade, security systems … it's surprising how much information is there in books and the Internet … just sitting there to be made use of!_" shaking her head at the folly of mankind and not noticing his appreciative grin.

"_I then found the sort of tools I might need … all legitimate … part of the glass trade, and made a list. On one of my runs to Chelsea I spotted a Mailroom place, rented a box under a false name_ …"

"_Didn't they ask for id?_"


	35. Chapter 35

**_Chapter 35_**

She blushes slightly, "_You know you can pick up false IDs at just about any campus right? Not to mention how easy it is to knock one up with a computer?_"

"_Yeah, I do know, and that's Ok as long as you don't get caught, I mean that can lead to a Class A Misdemeanor or even a Class Four Felony …_" and seeing the look she gives him, he has to grin "_Research, for when one of my characters might need something_"

"_Yeah, right … well, anyway, it was only for the box and not going to be used for anything else_ …"

"_Just out of curiosity, what did you supply?_"

"_University id and my lease … with a number of changes made to them …_" waiting to see if he was going to interrupt her again and seeing him hold up his hands in surrender, she continues, "_Anyway, the gym I go to_ …" and he's about to interrupt her again, but she glares at him and he closes him mouth and slaps on an apologetic look. Waiting until she's sure he's not going to say anything, she holds her glare and then continues, "_I go there for yoga and self-defence, but they also have an indoor rock climbing area. I signed up and started training, learning about basic body movements, proper spotting, previewing sequences, moving dynamically and most importantly for me, how to use ropes, ascenders, pulleys and harnesses_"

"_Meanwhile, I bought all my climbing equipment normally, the gym gave me a legitimate excuse, and the rest of the stuff I ordered out of state, via the Internet and had sent to the mailbox_", here she pauses and looks at her watch, raising her eyebrows as she notices its gone half four. She's about to mention it when he reaches his hand out and rests it on her knee.

"_Look, it's going to be several hours yet before my mother and Alexis come home. I still want to hear the rest of it and I also have some stuff I want to show you and maybe discuss, but if you need a break … how about we head out for a walk? Get some fresh air and then come back for round two … three?_" he corrects himself.

She looks at him, both surprised and pleased at his suggestion. They could probably both do with walking the cake off and some fresh air would be welcome. Slipping on her boots, she waits for him to get his own jacket along with her coat out of the closet and they both make their way down to the lobby, waving Charlie back into his seat as he's about to get up and open the door for them.

As soon as they reach the pavement, the chill hits them and Castle is quick to take Kate's coat from her arm and hold it out for her to slip into. It is only a few days till November and the air is fresh with the promise of snow, making their breaths steam and their noses cold. Tucking their hands into their pockets they began to walk down Broome, discussing the weather, commenting on the buildings they walked past, Castle making Kate giggle as he suggested that the elderly lady approaching them, wearing a fifties-style hat is probably the retired Mary Poppins. It then becomes a game to see who can place any unusual looking pedestrian into some farfetched film role.

They take a left onto Lafayette, heading up towards Petrosino Square, with Castle making her laugh again when he demands in an outraged voice how a triangular area could be called a square! A number of people sitting on the benches nearby look up at him in surprise and she has to grab his arm and drag him away as one particularly cranky and elderly gentleman of undoubted Sicilian origin starts telling him to mind his own "_damda bizeness"_.

They are both laughing as they turn right onto Spring Street and neither seems conscious of the fact that Kate still has her hand through his arm. Spring Street is fairly crowded as commuters crowd down into the subway and make their way round the road works on the corner. Half-way down the street Rick becomes aware of her hand in the crook of his arm just about the same time as Kate does. She's about to pull her hand out but he puts his other hand on hers and pressed his arm into his side holding her hand in place and pulling her round towards the _Ceci Cela Patisserie_, guiding her indoors.

"_Castle, you can't still be hungry?_"

"_No, but they have some fantastic pastry here, I thought we could pick something up for this evening_"

She comes to an abrupt halt, pulling him up short and making the person coming through the doorway behind her come to a bumping halt. There's a moment of apologies and then she's pulled him back against the wall. "_What do you mean this evening?_"

Looking a bit sheepish, he looks down at her, decides to go with the pouty little boy look and adds "_Well, with so much still to talk about, I thought maybe you'd like to stay for dinner?_"

She knows that look, and if it wasn't so damned cute she'd knock it off his face … which is probably exactly why he does it. She does an eye roll and when she looks back up at him he's grinning like he's just won the jackpot and she must remember not to use the eye roll when he's got the better of her … with a sigh she settles for "_Well I'm not promising anything_" and to underline the matter pulls her hand away, which only makes her realise how comfortable she'd been with it on his arm and … _focus Kate!_

Ten minutes later they leave the shop and he's carrying a box with enough mini cakes, tarts, tartelettes and petit fours to feed a regiment. They continue down Spring Street, walking past the DeSalvio playground, the rather yellowed and threadbare patch of grass and leafless trees not making it particularly welcoming, though he tells her that it looks much better when covered in snow …

"_Castle, most things look better when covered in snow, it hides the ugliness_"

"_You didn't let me finish_" he answers in mock hurt "_It also looks a lot better in spring when the leaves are out the grass has had a bit of sunlight!_"

"_Ok, I'll take you word for it, where now?_"

"_Let's cross over here and head back shall we_ .." they turn right onto Mott and head down towards Grand, pulling into the _Parisi Bakery_ to pick up some fresh bread. She knows a little about this area from her work, but it still surprises her how within a block they've gone from worn-down Americana to brash Asian. Nearly every property at this end of Mott is Asian, garish and colourful shop fronts replacing the rather weary looking traditional shops further up the street.

She mentions it to him and he shrugs, "_Fresh people, coming from and with nothing, willing to work twenty-four-seven to live the American dream, Italians, Irish, German, Jews, Vietnamese, Puerto Rican, Columbian … it's been happening for the last two hundred years and will probably continue for the next two hundred. The changing face of New York!_"

Turning right onto Grand they're back to a street reflecting its name, the tree-lined pavements giving onto better quality stores. They cross Mulberry Street and stop outside the _Italian American Museum_, but it's getting a bit late and so they carry on and turn right onto Centre Street and walk past the Police Building Apartments, previously the New York City Police Headquarters building. Kate looks at him as they walk past and asks "_You trying to tell me something here Castle?_"

He grins "_No, but I just wondered if you'd ever thought of hitting it, I mean given its previous history and considering they are luxury condominiums … the temptation …?_"

"_I have no intention of tempting fate. No Thanks!_" and she's grinning and bumping shoulders with him as the walk past the impressive building.

* * *

**_AN: As always, non-legal details are garnered from 'research' on the Internet … don't quote me to the Judge! J _**

**_As to the trip, in case anyone is interested, currently at Ouarzazate (Today's book cover) ... tomorrow we hit the desert, will probably mean no updates for 2/3 days ... sorry!_**

**_Finally, thank you for all your well-wishes both for the New Year and the trip, will answer msgs and reviews once I'm back home. Cheers. _**


	36. Chapter 36

**_Chapter 36_**

By the time they get back to the loft, daylight is fading fast and whilst Kate places the pastries and bread on the kitchen island, Castle goes around switching on lights, lighting the fire and making the place much cosier.

Returning from the bedroom he has to smile as he notices her sock-clad feet pocking out from under her. Turning his head he spots her boots back up against the wall by the door and he feels immeasurably satisfied that she seems to have settled back in. Her cheeks are rosy as the warmth from the loft begins to get their blood circulating again and he finds himself rubbing his hands together for all sorts of reasons.

"_Like some more wine?_" he asks. She nods and he pours them both a glass, making a mental note to stock up with a few bottles of the Seghesio in the hope that she'll be around to enjoy them.

Once they're settled he says "_Ok, so you learnt to rock climb and you learnt how to crack windows, how were you going to shift the items? Pawn shop? I'd have thought that would be risky … and not very profitable, especially with any valuable stuff?_"

"_Right on both counts, first place the cops look for stolen stuff and sure they'll give you a price on most things, but a valuable piece of modern art, pictures … no good. I have an old school friend, runs a legit business but like anyone in the trade, knows who deals with the shady side of things. She agreed to act as go-between as long as it was only a few items, didn't involve any violence and included nothing that would have the cops doing extra time_ …"

"_Like stealing some priceless diamond necklace or a Rembrandt?_"

"_Exactly_" she pauses, takes a sip of wine and continues, "_I'd delivered a package to an office, some small accounting firm on Division, the office was three rooms; reception and two others … I assume one for each partner. There was no receptionist when I got there and the office I went into to deliver the package didn't have much, but there were a couple of prints on the wall and a middle-aged guy who kept looking at me like he was imagining me naked … gave me the creeps … and the motivation_ …" a look of disgust sweeps across her face, then she carries on "… _anyway he went out to consult with his partner and I snuck round the desk and took a couple of shots of the prints with my phone, also took the chance to check the office for alarms and things_"

"_The building had scaffolding all up the front, they were obviously painting or cleaning the façade, I thought that would give me easy access and cover. I checked with my friend and she looked the prints up, they were a couple of limited edition Doug Hyde prints … valued at between a grand and fifteen hundred each … obviously a lot less in my case, about thirty percent of their legal value … but still they'd cover the month's payment to Valote_". Here she takes another break, sips her wine and watches the flames flickering in the fireplace for a few minutes before carrying on.

"_I spent three, four evenings watching their routine, checking closing times and where they went after closing. The other partner went home … at least I assumed it was his home … always the same block of apartments. My friend_ …" here she wrinkled her nose in distaste and Castle was hard put not grin, "… _always headed for the same bar about three streets away, spent about two hours in there trying to chat the ladies up and invariably left on his own and headed to the East Broadway Subway station_"

Standing up she heads to one of the windows overlooking Broome and stares out for a bit, watching the splay of evening lights across the pavements, the well-wrapped pedestrians hurrying along the sidewalk and occasionally stopping to glance into one of the shop windows before pulling their coats tighter and moving on.

Castle watches her, fascinated by the play of light and shade on her features, the flickering firelight adding to the enchantment as highlights lighten her skin and then shadow her features, the auburn hair curls softly into her neck at the back whilst the sides are carefully tucked behind her ears. He waits her out, used now to her pattern of telling him a part of her story and then regrouping before the next chapter is voiced.

Eventually, unbidden, she draws the curtains closed and returns to the couch, sitting down and hugging her knees to her. She rests her chin on her knees and stares at him from large, considering eyes, eyes that are dark pools from within which flecks of amber glitter and make him catch his breath. He remains still, though he desperately wants to lean closer, wants to be sucked into those mysterious pools and drown … she sighs and the sound brings him back to the present.

"_I went to rock climbing class the next evening, showered and changed into street clothes at the gym and hung around a local diner till they closed. Climbed on my bike and headed to Division. I thought if anyone stopped me and found my climbing gear, I'd have a legit excuse for carrying it. The scaffolding made it easy and the netting gave me good cover. It only took a few minutes to reach the second floor and the window that gave onto the office. I hadn't seen any alarm system when I'd been in there … who wants to steal anything from a small accounting firm right? Took me about five minutes to cut a circle in the glass and open the latch. I'd practiced at home on several sheets of glass, but it wasn't the same … every screech of the wheel seemed so loud that I had to stop every inch to make sure I didn't have a crowd of spectators. Anyway, eventually I managed to open the latch on the window, climb in and lift both prints off the wall_", again she pauses and with a rueful grin shakes her head. "_Took me about another ten minutes to get the prints out of their frames and rolled up into the tubes I'd prepared from kitchen roll tubes taped together_"

"_After that it was almost too easy to climb back down the scaffolding and head home. Next morning I really wanted to go to the office and see the guy's face_ …" she grins, "_It would have been priceless_"

"_Eventually it just became routine, I'd keep an eye out for items that I thought would be of sufficient value for my needs whenever I delivered something, I'd scout out the target to get an idea of routines … then I'd get in, take what I needed and get out again without anyone knowing I'd been there … until I met you!_" and here she's shaking her head in disgust at herself.

She watches him as he sits there, eyes lost in thought and fingers drumming on the back of the couch. She wonders what he's thinking and begins to get a bit nervous about his reaction to the information she's given him.

* * *

**_AN: Thanks fro your patience, another two days without Internet coming up, after that should be less interruptions._**


	37. Chapter 37

**_Chapter 37 _**

They sit there in silence, the minutes counted off by flickering flames and the faint clicking of appliances in the background. Eventually Castle stirs, nods to himself and stretches his legs out, running his hands through his hair before turning to face her again.

"_Ok, I said earlier I had a couple of things I wanted to show you and that I also had a proposition to make. I guess it's time to do that, but it's best if you join me in the study, its where I can show you what I've got so far_"

He stands and holds out his hand to her, for a moment she hesitates then places her hand in his and allows him to pull her to her feet. Following him into the study she stops just inside the doorway and waits as he goes to his desk and turns on the laptop and the large touch-screen off to the side that he uses as a storyboard.

Once everything is powered up she sees three folders appear on the big screen, _Death in Anger_, _Heat Wave_ and _Kate_ are the names under each folder icon. She joins him by the screen, curiosity piqued and is about to ask him about the _Kate_ folder when he starts talking as his hand moves towards the first folder, "_Death in Anger was to be my next book … eight months scribbling down story lines, trying to get something decent written … a lot of stress, a lot of hours spent staring at the empty screen … a lot of re-writes and edits _…" he taps the folder and it opens up to show thirty-three individual documents, mostly Word documents but also some scanned images of what appear to be notes written on a variety of papers; napkins, legal paper, even what looks like an opened up envelope covered in a close-written hand. "_Eight months of nothing …_" he shrugs, closes the folder and taps the next one.

The _Heat Wave_ folder opens up to show only two documents, one titled _Outline & Characters_, the other duplicating the folder's name, "_In ten days I've written a complete story outline and have a rough draft of twelve chapters _…" he turns his head towards her, "… _all inspired by you_".

She snorts and asks "_Do I get to read it?_"

"_I thought you weren't a fan?_" he grins at her

She pokes her tongue out at him, "_Well, if it's inspired by me, maybe I'll make an exception_"

"_Yeah right!_" and he laughs as he closes the folder "_It still need a lot of work, it's just a first draft"_ and then opens the folder marked _Kate_.

"_Really?_" she says as she sees the image of herself at the top left "_Not enough having my picture over there, you also need it on the screen?_" and though she's saying it sarcastically she's also a bit pleased about it, though she'll never admit it.

"_Backup, just in case someone walks off with the original_" and there's a challenging look on his face which makes her grin in spite of herself. He taps the subfolder containing the police report and moves the contents to one side, then opens up the map with the robbery markings he's made and slots it into the other half of the screen. He points to the police report "_This was what I got from the police on the cases that fit your MO, this was where I located them and where I discarded these three _…" indicating the three locations further north on the island.

"_Why did you discard those three?_" she asks

"_Robbery with violence, I didn't think they were your style_"

She nods and looks at the eleven marks on the map, comparing them quickly with the nine police reports on the left of the screen. Two of the marks she realises are Castle's own place and the hit on the building in the Bowery, both carried out after he'd got the report from the cops. She also looks at where he's marked his estimated points of origin and realises he'd only been a couple of streets away from the UMS office. The marked B&Es are about two thirds of those she's carried out, the other four B&Es not appearing either in the police reports or on the map. At least she still has a few secrets, though not many left.

"_Ok, so … what exactly am I supposed to … to take from this _…" she says, waving at the documents on the screen.

He takes a step back and leans against the desk, folding his arms and glancing between the screen and her face. She's standing staring at him, arms crossed in a slightly protective stance. Eventually he takes a deep breath and allows his eyes to rest on hers.

"_I have two propositions to put to you … and I don't want you to take them the wrong way or to make a decision without careful consideration … ok?_"

She stares at him and raises one hand, biting her thumbnail in a totally unconscious mannerism. He realises she's not aware of how childlike and defenceless it makes her look, and he has to pull his mind back to the matter in hand.

"_Ok, as I've told you, Heat Wave is inspired by you and if my publishers and the public like it … and I'm pretty sure they will, it will be the first of a series … and I'm going to need to consult with you … quite frequently _…" he adds in hope, "… _on how you'd go about certain things_". He pauses and sees she's getting pretty annoyed at his procrastinating, so he takes the plunge. "_I'm proposing to pay you a monthly retainer for those consultancies … it would also be a sort of royalty … you know, for the usage of the information you supply me with for the book_".

There's a pregnant silence and he begins to get a bit worried by the look she's giving him, so before his courage runs out he rushes into the second proposal "_The other proposal is that you let me help you with your mother's case … maybe I can get information which you can't … and working together …. well, two sets of eyes might see more than one_"

He comes to a stop and watches her. As he'd set out the second proposal, he's watched her posture become even more upright and stiff than before. Now she's just standing there, thumb no longer caught between her teeth but back to holding her elbow in a defensive crossed-arm posture.

She's unaware that she's stopped breathing. Her mind is in shock at both proposals, wondering what his angle is and why would he be interested and what does he mean by a retainer … and as to helping her with her mother's case … was he intending to use that for a book as well?

As if reading her mind he adds "_Whatever we find out about your mother, it's strictly private, strictly for you to decide what you want to do with that information_"


	38. Chapter 38

**_Chapter 38_**

"_Why would you want to help me find out about my Mom?_"

The question surprises him and she can see that. "_I guess I like to see justice done. What happened to your mother and what that's done to you isn't … fair … so if I can help you to get closure, it would make me feel a bit better about it_", he shrugs in apology, not very happy at how he's expressed himself and not wanting to tell her that he's somewhat intrigued by the case.

She moves away and flops down into one of the chairs, pulling her legs up and wrapping herself in her arms, appearing much smaller than usual. She stares up at the screen, looking at what he's done so far, thinking about how he's managed to get her to tell him things no one else has ever heard. She turns to look at him and her mind runs through the last couple of weeks. He's caught her in his house, he's caught her after a B&E, he's looked after her, treated her injuries, hasn't reported or handed her over to the police. He likes her, it's obvious in the way he looks at her, the way he treats her, and yet she can't understand why …

She turns back to look at the screen. It would be nice to have some help, but can she trust him not to use that information? Will he keep whatever they discover between just the two of them or will he find a way to put it into his books … she couldn't bear to have her Mom's case put out there for the public to gloat over … no, she needs time to think about that part. As to the retainer, well a hundred bucks or whatever a month would help, and if all she has to do for that is to tell him how she'd go about breaking in to some building or other … not a difficult proposition, especially if that means spending a bit of time with him. _Did she just say that? Pathetic Kate!_

"_The other documents in this folder, what are they about?_"

He looks at her, pushes himself off the desk and closes both the folder and the map. He taps the next three documents and spreads them out over the screen. The first is his own version of the police reports; each paragraph an abbreviated report on the B&E along with the salient points of the interview he's had with the owner. She can see that a number of them have either '_Refused to talk_' or '_Not available_' next to the '_Victim's Interview_' header under the each case note. The word victim makes her flinch a bit.

She turns her head to the next document and see's _Story Ideas_ as the title. Below are a number of paragraphs outlining some idea or other he's had for the book. Her eyebrows shoot up as she reads some of them, lips curling in amusement or disparagement depending on what she's reading. Castle watches her face from where he's settled back down on his desk, his eyes flicking back and forth between her face and the screen as he tries to spot what she's reading each time her face changes.

"_Really? Jameson Rook? Not very subtle is it?_" she asks in amusement, "_And what does NH stand for?_"

He hesitates, looking at her and trying to keep the amusement off his face, eventually he manages to school his features into some semblance of seriousness and says "_Nikki Heat_"

"_What! You can't be serious … that's a stripper's name!_"

"_So, I did say she'd be kinda slutty_" he grins at her, "_Seriously, it's a good name for her ... and just think of the possibilities with the titles_"

She shakes her head, far from convinced and then turns back to him, "_So, when do I get to read about my alter ego?_"

He twists round, leans over the edge of the desk and slides open a drawer from which he pulls out a folder. Tucking it under his arm he stands up straight, turns off the laptop and screen and indicates they should head back to the sitting room. Nodding, Kate stands up and precedes him out of the study and back to the couch.

He grabs the bottle off the kitchen counter, refills their glasses and settles down on the couch again before handing her the folder. He places his hand on top to stop her opening the cover and adds, "_Keep in mind that it's just a rough draft, up till now I've only ever allowed Alexis to read my stories at this stage … she's a pretty good critic to be honest … so … just be kind, ok?_"

She realises then that in spite of all his success as a writer, in spite of the confidence he exudes whenever she's with him, he is in fact as vulnerable as anyone else. So she nods in acquiescence, and he removes his hand from the folder, allowing her to flip the cover and begin to read.

Kate turns the next page and to her dismay realises it's the last page in the folder. With a frustrated sigh she lifts her head and takes in her surroundings. She's sitting in the centre of the couch, feet up on the coffee table, glass of wine forgotten next to her right foot. She also becomes aware of the fact that she's sitting right next to Castle, her shoulder pressed against his side, his arm curled round the back of the couch, not quite touching her but close enough for her to feel its presence just behind her neck.

His head's turned to observe her, a slight smile on his lips and it gets her, not just the smile, but the fact that she's lost herself in his unfinished, unpolished story and worst of all, she's allowed him to watch her doing so. She can feel her defences rising up, ready to deflect and deny.

But he stalls her, doesn't go for the fun poking she was expecting, instead it's a slightly hesitant "_Well? What do you think?_"

"_I … I'm surprised, she's not as shallow as I was expecting, I mean given the fact it's just a first draft_ …" she adds hastily.

He laughs, "_What, you were expecting some bimbo burglar?_"

She shrugs, "_With a name like Nikki Heat … well yes, what d'you expect? Also there are a couple of things that are wrong _…"

"_Like what?_"

"_She wouldn't be able to cut the glass with a normal cutter, high-rise buildings use tempered glass for their cladding and it can only be cut with specialised laser cutters, otherwise it would just shatter … so you're either going to have to load her up with some very expensive and bulky equipment, come up with some fictional Mission Impossible type tool or she's going to have to find a different way in_"

"_See, I knew you'd be a great consultant!_" he grins at her.


	39. Chapter 39

**_Chapter 39_**

She has to reluctantly admit, even if only to herself, that she likes the character, she's one ass-kicking cat-burglar, especially the way she takes down the security goon. It may only be a first draft and a good bit less than half the book written, but she can already get an idea of what Nikki Heat is going to be like. She leans forward to place the folder on the table and then asks him if she can use the bathroom.

"_Sure, you can use mine_ …" he says, waving his arm towards the study "… _or go upstairs and use Alexis'. Whilst you're there, how about I order some food in?_"

She nods and getting up heads towards the study and through his bedroom to the bathroom. Flushing the toilet she goes to the sink and begins to wash her hands, looking at herself in the mirror. She can't get her mind off the scene where Rook walks in on Nikki Heat and what goes through his mind on seeing her. Is that what Castle really thinks of her?

She turns her head to one side then the other, watching her reflection in the mirror. She knows she's attractive, has always known that though she's never set much store by it. She could have continued her teenage modelling career and possibly turned it into her livelihood, though she would never have made it into the big time, she was sure of that. But it had never really been that interesting or fulfilling to her and the egos of the other models, photographers and parents had been enough to put her off continuing in that world.

Now, examining herself in Castle's mirror and thinking about everything that's happened over the last few weeks she realises that he obviously feels something for her, otherwise there is no way he would have done what he has. But is it enough? Is it just the playboy trying to make another notch on the bedpost? Unwittingly, her head swings round as if she could see the bed through the closed bathroom door.

She dabs some water on her face, feeling the cooling effect as it removes some of the heat from her cheeks. Shaking her head at her reflection she has to admit that she wouldn't mind spending more time with him … and he seems to be piling up the excuses for that … she has to grin, consultant? Yeah, right, like he's really only trying to pick her brains!

She uses the corner of his hand towel to dry herself and turning off the light walks into the bedroom. She stops to look around, last time she'd been here she had been too concerned over all manner of things to do more than give the room a cursory look. Now she stops and takes in all the details; the large photos of the elephant and the lion on either side of the bathroom doorway … she steps over and takes a closer look at the elephant picture, her own favourite animal. Then she turns and takes in the rest of the room, the closed door over on the other side of the bed which she assumes is a closet, the picture frames scattered over the flat surfaces, all of them of Castle and his daughter, his mother and his daughter or of Alexis on her own.

She's curious, picks them up, puts them back down and turns on the spot to look for other pictures, trying to find one of his girlfriend or partner or ex-wife … not a single picture of anyone other than the three people she'd met whilst convalescing here … didn't he have some special friend? Or did the 'not bringing his double entendres' home include photos? So what does her picture in the study mean?

She bites her lip, aware that deep down, under all her protective layers of armour, she's hoping that her picture in the study and his interest in her is more than simply research for his next book … and if it's not? She really needs to have a talk with Lanie … or get her head examined by a shrink.

With a sigh she makes her way out to the sitting room and flops back down on the couch, making sure to keep several inches of space between them.

"_So, what would you like to watch whilst we wait for the food to arrive?_" he asks. She shrugs, going for detached and cool whilst trying to ignore the gravitational pull his body seems to be exercising on her. They settle on _The Dark Knight_ and sit back as the Warner Bros Pictures emblem fades to black.

The doorbell interrupts the scene just as the Joker walks in on the gang's meeting, his crazy laugh being interrupted by Castle hitting the pause button. Rick gets up and answers the door, taking the bag from the delivery guy and handing over the money and tip which he's previously prepared and placed in the ashtray by the door.

Kate joins him at the kitchen island and hums in appreciation as the smell hits her when he opens the bag and begins to remove the contents. "_I hope you like Lebanese?_" he asks.

She nods in assent, "_I love it, what did you get?_"

"_I got some mezzes, a bit of Hummus, some Loubieh_ …" his hand disappears once again into the bag and pulls out another couple of parcels, looking at the labels he continued, "… _and some Tabbouleh and Fatayer_ …" another dip into the bag produces "… _and of course some Falafel and Kibbeh_"

Kate has opened the parcels up as he's placed them on the counter and after he's pointed to one of the cupboards she's grabbed a couple of plates and a spoon and started to share out the food, the vivid colours and aromas making her mouth water.

"_I'll leave the Kafta and Shish Taouks in the oven to keep warm_" he adds, placing the cartons into the oven and setting it to a low heat as Kate carries both plates and cutlery over to the coffee table.

They settle down on the couch again, their feet up on the table, plates on their laps and Rick sets the film to play again, dropping the remote in the space between them. Kate's busy watching the film and chewing on a beef Kibbeh when she catches something out of the corner of her eye. Looking down she's just in time to see Castle trying to sneak one of her Fatayers off her plate. With a growl she slaps his hand away and gives him a glare. He grins back at her and with a shrug turns back to watch the film.

Now he's got her thinking and she's looking down at his plate from the corner of her eye, wondering if she can pinch one of his Falafels, seeing as he's eaten both his Kibbehs. From the corner of her eye she watches him and tries to work out the timing. He scoops up a forkful of Tabbouleh and just as he's about to put it into his mouth, she sneaks her hand across and makes a grab for the crusty chickpea ball. She's just got her fingers on it when his left hand comes across and clamps down on her wrist.

She's startled enough to almost knock her plate off her lap and is further shocked as still holding her wrist he raises her hand to his mouth and takes a bite out of the Falafel she's holding between her fingers. The intimacy of the action makes her drop the remaining bit of Falafel and luckily it lands back on his plate.

* * *

**_AN: Over 100 reviews! Thanks to all of you, it's much appreciated,. Will soon be back to regular updates; another three days before we're back home. _**


	40. Chapter 40

**_Chapter 40_**

He's looking at her and waggling his eyebrows and she can feel the colour in her cheeks, but decides to play it down, poking her tongue out at him and telling him to leave her food alone. She turns back to the TV, trying to ignore the almost burning sensation where he grabbed her wrist. He hadn't applied any pressure but she feels as if his fingers have branded her.

Rick is also trying to keep his mind on the film, he's already seen it twice and is quite happy to watch it again. But he can't help feeling a shortness of breath and a sense of trepidation at what he's just done. The look on her face as he'd taken the bite out of the Falafel held delicately between her fingers had the blood drumming in his ears and it was taking all his will power to keep from throwing the plates away and turning to kiss those lips which had parted in shock. In fact the image of those wide-open eyes and parted lips keeps superimposing itself on the screen before him and making the job of concentrating on the film even more difficult.

With both plates empty he unthinkingly drops his hand for the remote to pause the film. Suddenly he stops as he realises his groping hand is resting tight between their two thighs and she's giving him another glare. Sheepishly he points down with his free hand and mutters "_Remote_". She rolls away slightly and his fingers find the remote where it had slipped between the cushions. Pulling it up he shows it to her in the hope she won't kill him. He gets an eye roll from her and then she's settled back into her previous position and he's just thankful she hasn't moved away and put more space between them.

Standing up and holding his plate in one hand, he lifts hers from her lap with the other and carries them to the kitchen where he pulls the food from the oven. Sharing out the Kafta and Shishes between them, he carries them back to the couch, handing Kate her plate and settling down with his own. He pretends to ignore her stare as he finds he's sitting closer to her than before, thighs touching. Leaning forwards and picking the remote off the table, he expects her to move away as he settles back and hits the play button. Several minutes later they are still sitting there, shoulders, arms and legs touching, both staring in concentration at the screen, both ignoring the food on the plates, both aware of the heat from the other.

It's not in until the mayhem in the tunnel takes place as the Joker attacks the transports carrying Harvey Dent to Central Holding a few moments later that they both realise their food is getting cold and make a belated start on it.

Lieutenant Jim Gordon's _"… a dark knight_" fades out to black and the music and rolling credits take over the screen. Kate blinks her eyes a couple of times and slowly begins to take in her surroundings. The two plates are stacked on the coffee table off to her right, two empty wine glasses next to them. She seems to have sunk lower down on the couch, ankles crossed on the table, the TV screen framed between her own feet and Castle's which are off to her left. She's feeling nice and warm, the heat from the fire nothing compared to that coming off Castle's body where she's wedged up against him, his arm slung round her shoulders, hand gently rubbing circles on her upper arm. _Just when did that happen?_ She feels her body stiffening on the realisation and her breath catches in her throat.

Rick's been comfortably aware of Kate slowly sinking into his side as the film progressed and she became involved in it. It had felt natural to simply slide his arm around her shoulder and her own hand, resting between their thighs had been perfectly relaxed throughout. The sudden tensing of her body makes him stop the unconscious rubbing of his hand along her upper arm. He sees the sudden movement of her hand away from where it's been resting against his thigh and watches as she lays it flat against her stomach, her other hand coming round to settle over it. He waits for her to pull away, ready to remove his arm from around her shoulders, waiting for her to say something. But she just sits there, facing forwards, neither making a move away nor looking at him.

Kate can feel the stillness in him, the held breath, and she realises it's her own surprise at finding herself almost wrapped in his arms that has brought about the change. She daren't look up at him, aware that he must be staring down at her and wondering how she's going to react. Her eyes drop to where her hands are crossed over her stomach, right hand clamped tightly over left. She forces herself to take a breath, then another, makes her hands relax, tries to ignore the butterflies which are trying to burst through her stomach. The third breath seems to be a bit easier, then the fourth, the fifth is almost back to normal and she can feel her shoulders loosening slightly as she tries to regain some semblance of normalcy.

Though he can tell she's still not relaxed, the fact that she hasn't pulled away, had hysterics or killed him allows him to breathe again and trying for casual he pulls his arm from around her shoulder and leans forward, stretching his arm over her legs and picking up the plates from the end of the table. "_Coffee?_" he asks in as casual a voice as he can manage.

She shakes her head, he doesn't see it, still not daring to look directly at her but he can feel the movement. She tries to say something, but has to clear her throat before giving it a second go. "_No, thanks, I think I'd best be getting home_"

He nods, wishing she didn't want to leave just yet but knowing he needs to give her space. "_I'll just clear this up and then I'll drive you home_"

"_You don't need to do that … drive me home I mean_" as she gets up and joins him in the kitchen, "_I can get a cab_"

He rinses the plates, jams everything into the dish washer as Kate puts the empty containers into the carrier bag. "_No, I'll run you home, it's the least I can do_"

She wants to argue the point but to be honest she wouldn't mind being driven home. It's been a strange day, partly relaxing, partly tense. It's been enjoyable being around him but unburdening her soul has also taxed her and as usual, she needs some time alone to get her mind round everything … not least of all, how she feels about the writer.

With the kitchen tidied up she heads for the door and slips her boots back on whilst he gets her coat out of the cupboard. He locks the door behind him and they take the lift down to the garage. He holds the car door open for her and she gets in, folding her coat over her lap. Only then does he hand her a small carrier bag before closing the door and going round to the driver's side.

She takes a look in the bag and has to grin as she sees half a dozen of the pastries they'd picked up during their walk nestled inside. She's going to have to be careful or she's going to put on weight!

They're almost at Greene Street when he asks her where she wants to be dropped off. For a moment she hesitates, then shrugging to herself tells him go round the corner to Mercer. There's a parking space between a van and one of the new model VW Beetles and she tells him to pull in.


	41. Chapter 41

**_Chapter 41_**

They sit there for several moments, the engine ticking over, turned in their seats facing each other. Slowly he leans towards her, moves his hand to the back of her neck and gently pulls her towards him. She stares at him from huge eyes as they come together, then she closes hers, allows a sigh to escape her and feels the gentle brush of his lips on hers. It's a feather light touch, a promise of more to come, then a second harder crushing of lips and his thumb is brushing the shell of her ear and her tongue is pushing his lips apart and his is fighting back and she's short of breath and then he's pulling back, her own instinctive move to follow his lips brought to a stop by the catch of the seatbelt.

Kate opens her eyes and sees him leaning back against his door, a look of bewilderment on his face which probably matches her own. _Oh my god!_ Then he reaches out again, takes her hand in his, turns it over and places a gentle kiss on her palm. "_When can I see you again?_" he asks.

She has to swallow, and she snatches her hand back, feeling the touch of his lips still tingling the palm of her hand. "_I'll … I'll give you a call_" she manages, "_I need a bit of time to think things through _…" and hesitatingly "… _do you mind?_"

He shakes his head, then stops "_Well actually I do mind, but I understand, so take the time you need_"

She nods, unclips the seatbelt and climbs out of the car. As she's about to close the door, she stops, leans in and says, "_Oh, by the way, it's Beckett_"

"_What is?_"

"_You work it out_" she adds with a smile as she closes the door and walks across the sidewalk to a doorway a few yards further down. He watches her open the door, pausing a moment to look back at him before waving and closing the door behind her. He makes a note of the building, then settles back, checks his mirrors and pulls out into the street.

He drives back to the loft on autopilot, his driving instinctive, his mind grappling with what has just happened. He knew they would be good together, but that kiss had blown his mind away, the scent of cherry and spicy Lebanese food and Kate melded into some exotic cocktail which he wants to try again … and again, and again.

It's not till he's riding the lift up to the loft that he remembers her comment as she closed the door. '_By the way, it's Beckett'_, what had she meant by that? What does the old Archbishop of Canterbury have to do with it … or was she referring to Samuel Beckett, the poet ... it makes no sense, neither of them make sense and right now he can't think of any other Becketts .. so, what the hell?

With a sigh she leans against the back of the lift as shuddering and jolting, it trundles its way up to her fourth-floor apartment. Unconsciously, her hand moves to her lips, remembering the silken feel of his kiss, the fire that burnt right through her soul as she'd responded to him. She can't help the smile that flitters across her face, then she frowns … she needs to talk to Lanie before she goes and does something stupid … not that she hasn't already done it. She's allowed herself to get too close to someone who could ruin her life so easily … and yet, would he? Would he have wasted so much time with her if he wasn't interested in her as a person, surely if all he wanted was to pick her brains all he had to do was to talk to her, she seems incapable of withstanding his probing questions, of keeping her natural defences up. He has no need to spend time with her aside from that, no need to prepare meals or sit with her and watch a film … or treat her injuries, and most important of all, keep her secret from the cops.

He's obviously serious about the book, after all, he wouldn't have bothered writing as much as he has if he isn't, surely? And to be honest, she's totally thrilled at being the heroine of a Castle book, especially if Rook's thoughts are anything like Castle's. But … the pinging of the lift as it comes to a grumbling halt on her floor draws her out of her reverie and with a gusty sigh she pushes herself off and makes her way down the hallway to her door.

He pushes the study door closed behind him and can't help glancing at the picture on the easel … suddenly he stops. It has to be, surely … Kate Becket … or would it be Kate Beckett with two ts? He flops down into the chair and by the desk and pulls his phone out of his pocket.

She's kicked her boots off, hung her coat on the wall-mounted rack behind the door and changed into a pair of sweats and a large t-shirt. It reminds her that she needs to get his shirt washed and returned to him before he calls her out on it. She's going round the apartment turning on lights and heating, trying to make the place warm and cosy and failing miserably when she compares it to his loft. Her phone rings. Pulling it up she sees it's Castle and with a sigh flops down onto the couch. She stares at the ringing phone for several moments, wondering if she should answer on not, maybe he's calling to say it was a mistake, that the kiss meant nothing, that he doesn't want to see her again … then with some trepidation she taps the screen and holds it up to her ear.

"_Is it with one or two tees?_"

She's startled by the question, "_What the_ …" then realises he's asking her about her name and has to grin, making a conscious effort to tamp down the feeling of relief she's feeling. "… _it's with two tees_"

"_So, Kate Beckett or Katherine Beckett?_"

"_Kate … unless it's for formal occasions_"

"_Well Kate Beckett, thank you for a most enjoyable day … when can I see you again?_"

She has to laugh and then tries for a stern voice, "_We've already been through that Castle, I said I'd let you know when_" but realises as soon as she's finished that in spite of her best effort her voice has unconsciously dropped an octave and been much more intimate than she'd meant it to be.

She can hear him chuckling on the other end and pulls her feet up onto the couch, settling into the corner and smiling in spite of herself, then hears him ask quietly "_What are you doing?_"

"_Why do you want to know?_"

"_Just curious, and you shouldn't answer a question with another one!_"

"_You only dropped me off twenty minutes ago, what am I supposed to be doing?_"

"_I don't know … having a long, hot bath … and thinking of me? Or maybe lying in bed, wearing nothing but a t-shirt …. and thinking of me?"_

She has to blush at his words, butterflies making her stomach tremble as his deep voice stirs her and plants the ideas in her mind … and she has to shake her head to clear those tempting thoughts and manages to make her voice light as she answers "_Why on earth would I be thinking of you Castle, plenty of others I can think of in those situations …_"

"_Oh_"

She picks up on the hurt in his voice, subtle but enough to make her regret her words immediately and she changes tack, "_Not that there is anyone_ …" _shit Kate, really?_ "_I mean no-one at the moment _…" and she peters out in exasperation at herself.

"_Ok, Kate Beckett, sleep well … and dream of a ruggedly handsome writer_" and his voice is back to cheerful which is a relief to her though she can't help biting her lip as she realises how much ground she's giving him.

"_Thanks Castle … and I'll dream of Cannell_"


	42. Chapter 42

**_Chapter 42_**

Kate Beckett wakes to a cold October morning, the last of the month, the bedroom window clouded by condensation and blurring the cold light attempting to make its way in to the bedroom.

Its Sunday and her lay-in day and yet she's wide awake and excited and it's only eight thirty according to her clock. She doesn't really want to get out of bed, it's warm and protective and yet she's incapable of laying still. Her mind jumps to yesterday, to everything that happened from the moment she rang his doorbell. She runs through the day, step by step, trying to find alternative meanings to his words or his actions, trying to and failing as each time she remembers his look as he wiped the sauce from the corner of her mouth or his tone of voice as he told her he wanted to help her find out about her Mom, or the intimacy of his taking a bite out of the Falafel she was holding, the kiss, the look of shock on his face, the call at the end of the evening.

Unconsciously she's sat up as her mind runs through the Saturday, her arms wrapped round her knees and chin resting on them as she finds herself smiling. Then she becomes aware of the cold round her shoulders and down her back and blushes as she realises she's wearing nothing but a t-shirt and thinking of a ruggedly handsome writer … and not the one she'd jokingly mentioned.

Grabbing her dressing gown from the end of the bed she pulls it on and slips out from under the covers, wrapping it tightly around her and wishing the heating in the building was as efficient as Castle's. She pulls a pair of thick socks from a drawer and slips them on before pushing her feet into her slippers and heading for the kitchen.

Half an hour later she's on her second cup of coffee and desultorily stirring the slightly stale cereals in the bowl, impatiently waiting for the clock to crawl round to a reasonable time … reasonable as far as waking Lanie up on a Sunday is concerned.

She thinks about calling Castle … and immediately rejects the idea. Then she stands up, empties the uneaten cereals down to toilet before returning to the kitchen and rinsing both the bowl and the spoon. Kate makes her way into the bedroom, changes into a pair of pantyhose before pulling on a thick pair of tracksuit bottoms and slipping a thick hoodie over her t-shirt. She leans into the closet and pulls out a pair of trainers, laces them up and only stops to pick up some money, her phone, headphones and keys before making her way down to the street.

She heads northeast on Mercer towards Houston and swings left once she's crossed the junction, striding out as she hits the south side of the park-like area. Soon she's hit her stride, arms pumping, breath even, legs kicking as she reaches La Guardia Plaza and swings right into the tree-lined alley, moving easily round the few pedestrians she meets, acknowledging the occasional runner she crosses paths with. The trees are bare, offering nothing but skeletal branches in supplication to the glaringly grey sky overhead and no protection from the chill air but her body has built up its own heat as she burns off calories.

She dodges left at the Morton Williams marketplace and heads northeast on La Guardia towards West Third Street keeping under the trees and feeling the satisfaction of the slap, slap, slap as her trainers hit the pavement and Rihanna's_ Take a Bow_ plays through her earpiece.

She makes her way along Washington Square Village, the trees thinning out here, one every five yards or so lining the street and offering little at this time of year, though spring and summer they offer grateful shade from the soaring sun.

Soon she's back at the top end of Mercer, the trees thickening up again as she makes her way down towards Houston once again. She completes the first lap and swings right again at the corner for a second one, feeling the energy building as her body moves fluidly in a well-rehearsed rhythm.

It's almost an hour before she's heading back up to her apartment, using the stairs rather than the lift as she burns up the last of her excess energy. Once through the door she leans back against it, hands on knees, allowing her breathing to settle down a bit, the perspiration pouring down her face and body. The flat no longer feels cold, though she knows it will soon enough if she doesn't turn the heating up.

Then she's heading to the bathroom, stripping off and dropping her clothes on the floor to be dealt with later, stepping under the shower and allowing the hot water to wash away the sweat and grime and exhaustion of her run. By the time she's dressed in fresh yoga pants, ankle warmers and a big loose top it's almost ten thirty and she grabs her phone to call Lanie.

They make arrangements for the evening and then Kate goes about sorting and doing her laundry, dusting and cleaning, keeping herself busy and trying to keep her mind off Castle. She has to stop herself calling him several times, picking the phone up, running through the contacts list, she still hasn't put him on speed dial … like that would commit her to whatever it is they have … or don't have.

Castle wakes and with a lazy yawn turns to look at the clock on his nightstand. Twelve thirty, he could do with another hour of sleep, he didn't notice the time when he crawled into bed, but it must have been after four in the morning, probably closer to five. Then he smiles as he thinks of the evening, reliving all those moments in his mind as the sleepiness leaves his body and is replaced with a sense of excitement he hasn't felt for a long time. He gets up, suddenly revitalised and heads for the bathroom, a pee and a shower uppermost in his mind. Twenty minutes later he emerges from the bedroom, fresh denim shirt over a pair of worn but comfortable jeans and stops by his desk, moving the laptop from the corner of the desk where he had exhaustedly dropped it last night after writing another four chapters and editing the earlier ones.

Returning from dropping Kate … Beckett … no Kate, he prefers Kate to Beckett, off at her place and after their phone conversation, his imagination had suddenly taken over, pouring out the next sequence of events for the story, inspired inevitably by the disclosures and events of the day. Four or five hours of compulsive writing had left him exhausted and he'd just dropped the laptop on the desk and crawled into bed.

Now he needs to do several things; swallow a gallon of coffee, see his daughter and check on how her evening had gone, phone Kate and read through last night's writing, see if it hangs together in the cold light of day the same way it had done in the dark of night.

* * *

_**AN: Thank you all for your continued interest and support of the story. I'm now back home after a great time spent driving round the wild parts of Morocco and will hopefully now have the time to answer all your wonderful reviews! (Though I do have a lot of work to get sorted out beforehand, surprising how much piles up when you're enjoying yourself :) **_


	43. Chapter 43

**_Chapter 43_**

Walking out to the kitchen he sees both his daughter and his mother sitting at the kitchen island with their backs to him and sharing pages from his newspaper. Stepping up behind them he laces an arm round each shoulder and drops a kiss on Alexis' head.

"_Morning ladies, and how was your day?_"

Alexis drops the fashion section she's holding and turns on the seat to slip her arm round his waist and return the hug. Martha turns her head to look her son up and down, manicured hands carefully holding the entertainment section of the newspaper.

Alexis is first with an excited retelling of a day's shopping and spa treatment and an evening of watching Billy Elliot at the Imperial Theatre on Broadway, including meeting the cast backstage thanks to Grams.

He offers a mouthed than you over her head and Martha waves it away which makes him cringe at the probable dent in his credit card. If his mother isn't demanding some type of reward from him, even if only as a playful comment, then she's probably restocked her wardrobe at his expense, not that he really begrudges her the money, it's just their _thing_, the petulant comments and counter-comments.

He pours himself a coffee and leans back against the counter, letting the caffeine work through his system whilst trying to ignore the rather pointed look his mother is giving him and concentrate on his daughter chewing on a strand of hair as she reads through the latest accessories fashion.

"_So Richard, how was your day, I gather Kate spent the whole of yesterday with you?_"

Rick glares at his mother, aware that Alexis has dropped the newspaper sheet and is now watching him from large, blue and intrigued eyes. He's going to have to have a word with Charlie and Eduardo … no more ratting on him to Martha!

Going for nonchalant, he gives a shrug and says "_It was enjoyable, she gave me a lot of ideas and pointers … in fact she even pointed out a couple of mistakes I'd made. I was able to get another four chapters written and some editing done_" hoping the writing bit will deflect her. Unfortunately, Martha, once she's locked onto a subject is worse than a sidewinder missile, she'll ignore all the chaff and defensive measures you might throw out and head right for the hotspot.

"_You mean, you let her read the manuscript?_" eyebrows raised and eyes wide in surprise, it's well known that no-one other than Alexis gets to read his manuscripts until Gina's given it the once over.

Aware that he's had one engine knocked out and is now crabbing across the sky on one motor and an occasional puff of smoke he turns his back on them and starts getting himself something to eat in the hope that a second sidewinder doesn't finish him off for good. "_She only read a bit, I needed to check that Nikki Heat's technique was correct_"

He can feel the cruel smile stretching across his mother's face even with his back to her. "_And did she show you any new techniques yesterday?_" the dulcet voice dripping amusement at the way he'd left that gate wide open.

Turning, he glares at her, pointedly glancing at his daughter. Unfortunately Alexis is a smart kid and knows exactly where the conversation is going. "_Eww Grams, adolescent present!_"

Martha just shrugs, amusement on her face as she pats her granddaughter's shoulder, "_Don't worry kiddo, things are bound to get worse before they get better!_"

Sliding the bacon and eggs onto a plate along with a slice of toast he grabs his cup, walks round past his daughter, leans down to give her a kiss on her head and whispers loudly, "_I'm going to work on the book, don't let your Grams lead you up any garden paths … she's crazy_"

Both women turn on their seats to watch him disappear into the study, closing the door behind him before high-fiving. "_So, you really think he's getting in over his head Grams?_"

"_I don't know kiddo, but the time he's spent on tracking her down and looking after her … you know your Dad, he does tend to get a bit obsessive … but with this Kate? I don't know … how do you feel about it?_"

Alexis considers the question, then shrugs, "_I'm not sure, she seems a nice person, though a bit closed off. She's certainly like none of the other women he's picked up at book launches or whatever … and she's the first he's brought home since Gina … I guess we'll just have to keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn't do anything crazy_"

Martha watches her granddaughter with a mixture of pride and amusement. Richard isn't the only one who thinks she's the adult in the family despite only being fifteen. But she's still vulnerable and Martha isn't sure where the current situation is heading. Like Alexis, she thinks Kate is both interesting and an extremely private person. There is a lot to her which is both a mystery and contradictory and she knows how her son can become fascinated by those characteristics, she just hopes he'll know when to stop.

Castle meanwhile has turned on the laptop and enjoyed his breakfast in the relative peace of the study, away from the lurking danger that is Martha Rodgers. Picking up the phone he is about to make a call when he decides it might be better to send a message.

Kate is folding the clothes from the drier, ready for ironing, when the chirp from her phone draws her attention. Looking around she sees it poking from under a magazine on the coffee table and picking it up checks the screen. Expecting it to be Lanie with some news about their girls' night she's both surprised and pleased to see its from Castle.

Sliding her thumb across, she reads **_Morning beautiful, thanks for a great day!_**

She can't help the smile that pulls her mouth up into a curve and sitting down on the couch she drops the half-folded shirt onto the table and texts back; **_Its way past morning Castle_**

She has to laugh when he sends **_Way past morning_** **_beautiful, thanks for a great day!_**

Kate's about to answer him when the phone rings and she sees it's his number. Looking around the apartment at the amount of work still to do before Lanie arrives she lets out a sigh and settles back into the couch before taking the call.

"_What are you doing today Beckett?_"

"_What business is it of yours Castle?_"

"_You always answer a question with another question, Beckett?_"

"_You going to wear my name out Castle?_"

"_No Kate, I'm still trying to get used to it, is all. And you still haven't answered my question!_"

Kate pulls a foot up onto the couch and tucks it under her other leg before answering, "_Housework_"

"_How boring! How about going out for lunch?_"

"_Can't, I've a friend coming for the evening; I need to get my place sorted_"

She can sense the hesitation and disappointment in his voice "_Oh, well then in that case I'll let you get on with it_"

Now it's her turn to hesitate a moment, not sure why she should feel she needs to put his mind at rest, not used to explaining herself to others. "_It's a girls' night_" she says quietly, almost to herself. But he obviously hears her because suddenly he's back to his cheerful self.

"_Oh, well then in that case, don't let me hold you up, have a great time Kate!_"

"_Thanks, I'll call you later … well maybe tomorrow_"

"_I'm generally up till the early hours with my writing, so you can call me later if you want_" he adds quickly.

"_Ok, maybe, I'll see how it goes … bye_" and then she's cutting the call otherwise she'll still be sitting here saying inane nothings when Lanie arrives.


	44. Chapter 44

**_Chapter 44_**

She's just put the wine glasses out on the counter when there's the familiar buzz from downstairs, the three impatient rings that are Lanie's signature call. Even so, Kate checks and buzzes her up as soon as she hears the "_C'mon girl, my butt's freezing down here!_"

The rap on the door sounds a few minutes later and then she's opening the door and getting wrapped in Lanie's effusive hug. Its several moments before she can release herself, close the door and push her friend towards the couch.

"_So girl, what's new? How come you ain't been round to visit?_"

Both women are sitting on the floor facing each other, cushions scattered round and under them in their usual arrangement, one arm resting up on the couch behind them, holding their wineglasses whilst they use their free hands to pick at the food on the plates between them.

Kate shrugs, gives her friend a smile and says "_Been a bit busy_"

"_Doin' what babe? 'Cos your back may be better, but you ain't been round to check up on any pieces lately, so whats goin' on?_"

Kate looks at her friend, bites her lip and wonders just how much to tell her. It's not a case of her not trusting Lanie, far from it, it's a question of how much ribbing she's prepared to put up with. Lanie can sense the conflicting emotions her friend's trying to hide and like any good dealer, knows when she needs to push and when to sit back and let the client bite the hook. Right now she knows that whatever it is that Kate's holding back from her, she won't get to it by pushing, so she tamps down her impatience, takes a sip of wine and fixes her large almond eyes on Kate.

"_I returned the jewels_" she says, dropping her eyes and pretending to busy herself with dipping a nacho into the guacamole paste.

Lanie doesn't know what she was expecting, but certainly not that. She runs Kate's words through her mind once more and still can't make heads or tails of it "_You … what?_" she asks.

Kate looks up at her friend, expecting she knows not what, but finding only puzzlement. "_I returned the jewels to Castle … the guy I took them from_"

"_I know who god dammed Castle is girl! Ever since he caught you, all you do is talk about him! What I wanna know is why you returned those pieces? I mean they weren't exactly worth a fortune!_"

"_You know why Lanie! He could have turned me in, instead he looked after me, helped me out, it's the least I could do!_"

Lanie grins at her "_Ok, girlfriend, keep your hair on! I get it … jus' wanted to see ya' squirm a bit_._ Still doesn't tell me why I ain't seen you all week_"

Kate bites her lip and throws a fleeting glance up at Lanie from downcast eyes. There's no getting away from it, Lanie's staring at her with the same intent a vulture might eye its prey … she could crawl, but she isn't going to get away!

"_Monday and Tuesday I was still working on getting my back healed, went to the gym for some workouts. Then on Wednesday I headed over to Castle's place and left the jewels on the roof, messaged him where they were. I still wasn't one hundred percent so it took a bit out of me, I just came home and had a bath, relaxed_"

There's a pause and _No One_ by Alicia Keys can be heard playing softly in the background. If Kate was hoping for a respite from Lanie she was mistaken as her friend comes out with "_So that takes care of the first half of the week …?_"

Kate shrugs almost to herself, then popping an olive into her mouth chews it and swallows. "_Thursday I went to a book signing_"

"_Where? North Dakota?_"

Kate grins "_No, just round the corner, on Houston and Broadway_"

"_Let me guess, it was lover boy right_"

"_Lanie!_" she protests, "_He's not lover boy! At least _…" then catches herself

"_At least what, girl?_" and now Lanie's curiosity is totally piqued, Kate can tell that from the way she's leaning forwards, invading her space … _shit!_

Kate goes for the deflection "_Nothing, he was signing books and I wanted to get my last one signed, that's all!_"

Lanie's now shooting her eyes around the room, then she's standing up and heading over to the bookcase where the copy of _Storm Fall_ is lying across the top of his other books. Too late Kate realises what Lanie's up to and tries to stop her, but has no success. Her friend's picking out the book, sliding it open and searching for the evidence. She almost snorts when she reads his words, glancing up in shock at Kate and making a whistling shape with her mouth. Placing the book back carefully she returns to sit on the floor, mind churning at the implication of his written comment.

They sit in silence for several minutes, Kate occasionally taking a sip of wine and nibbling on a nacho chip, appetite forgotten as she watches the wheels churning in Lanie's mind. Whatever conclusion she comes to, she decides to keep it to herself for now and comes up with "_So what else?_"

Kate blushes, then decides she's already in deep shit with Lanie, so what the hell … "_He asked me to lunch yesterday, at his place, to talk … about his next book …_"

"_To talk about his next book_ …" Lanie repeats slowly, then "_Why the hell would he want to talk to you about his next book?_"

By now Kate's wishing she'd never mentioned it, she's back to clamping her thumbnail between her teeth, a total giveaway where Lanie's concerned and eventually manages "_He's basing his main character on me_" the sentence coming out in a small voice.

"_WHAT! HE'S BASING HER ON YOU!_"

"_Lanie! Hush! All the neighbours will hear!_"

"_My gosh girl! I don't care if the whole fricking city hears!" _She squeals in excitement_ "You mean he's actually writing about you? … Wait! Are you sure that's a good idea?_" words tumbling out of her mouth one after the other.

"_He's not writing about me Lanie, just the character looks a bit like me … and, well, she's a cat-burglar taking the bad guys down_ …"

"_Oh girl! No you don't, you gonna tell me every bit … wait! You sure he's on the level? I mean, is he really gonna write this or he just tryin' to get in your pants?_"

"_He's already written the first part … twelve chapters, showed them to me yesterday!_" and she can't help letting some of her own excitement and awe seep into her voice.

"_Girlfriend! You gonna start from the beginin' now … an' I wanna hear every juicy detail!_"


	45. Chapter 45

**_Chapter 45_**

It's gone eleven when Kate finally manages to push Lanie out her front door. She's exhausted. Revealing everything to her friend, especially the kiss in the car, has made her realise how crazy the whole thing is. She's kidding herself thinking that this is some sort of Pretty Woman scenario where she, the penniless messenger with a criminal career is going to be rescued by her handsome writer.

Lanie's enthusiasm had been contagious, but now, in the relative quiet of a lonely apartment that would fit inside his sitting room, she realises she's delusional. She leans back against the closed door, then allows herself to slowly slide down until she's sitting on the floor, knees up in front of her, arms clamped tightly round them.

For a few days she's been living a dream … well, a prelude to one anyway, but she mustn't kid herself, there's no future there for her, maybe a few months of fun and games and telling him where he's got the technique wrong … not much to build a future on. He'll soon get bored with her, start looking for the page six arm candy he can take to the ball … not Cinderella.

She pushes herself up off the floor and looks around the room. Lanie helped her to tidy up, so there's only the dishes and glasses to wash up and then she can head to bed. A little while later she's walking round the room, turning off lights and pulling the curtains back in readiness for the morning. Walking past the couch she scoops her phone off the table and carries it into her bedroom, dropping it on top of the bed covers before heading for the bathroom. Ten minutes later she's turning off the bathroom lights and rubbing moisturising cream into arms, neck and face then sitting on the edge of the bed to wipe the last remnants from palms and between fingers into her legs.

The nightstand lamp throws a warm glow over half the bed and part of the floor, dark shadows contrasting with the yellowish light. She slips in under the covers and the phone gets kicked out from where she'd dropped it. Grabbing it she checks the alarm's set for her early morning start and sets it on the nightstand before stretching out to switch the light off.

She settles back and pulls the covers up, crosses her arms over her stomach, rubbing one thumb gently over the other. She feels exhausted but not sleepy, her body begging for rest, her mind running a thousand miles an hour.

She stares unseeing at the patterned spray of light on her ceiling cast by the street lights forcing their way through the gap between curtain rail and wall, the curtain rings casting tooth-like shadows, an oblique oblong of light with a serrated lower edge. She turns over, pushes her hand under the pillow and pumps it up, raising and lowering her head in an attempt to find a comfortable position, then stares at the darker shadow of the bedside lamp against the backlit curtains.

Her eyes flicker involuntarily to the darker oblong of her phone just visible next to the lampstand. She closes her eyes, tries to think of sunny beaches and waving palm trees and the gentle rush of waves on sand, tries to imagine herself on a low-slung hammock, sipping a cool fruit cocktail whilst a gentle breeze cools her skin … except that every time she's fixed the picture in her mind he's suddenly there, walking next to her, lying in the hammock an arms breadth away, kissing the palm of her hand and sending shivers up her spine.

In frustration she turns over, setting the pale patch of curtains behind her, pulling the covers over her head as if they'll protect her from him, her eyes staring into the gloomy corner where the dresser is just a darker mass against the walls. She suddenly develops an itch on her cheek, has to scratch it … then the damned thing's moved round to her back, just where she'd cut herself and his fingers had brushed her skin, made her wince and tingle, made her gasp in pain and hold her breath in anticipation.

She's back to lying on her back, covers pushed down to her waist, fists grabbing the bedding in frustration. Sitting up, she swings her legs over the edge of the bed, leans forward and runs her fingers through her hair. She makes a half-hearted grab at the phone, swipes her finger across it and looks at the time … 12:23 … she could have sworn it would have been later … earlier … whatever. She drops the phone back on the nightstand, gets up and patters through to the kitchen for a glass of water, feeling the cold biting into her, the warmth of the bed she's just left no longer a prison, it's appealing once more.

She carries the glass back with her, places it carefully on the nightstand and slips back under the covers, feet cold as ice, the sheets still warm but quickly losing any residual heat. She's once again lying on her side, back to the window, sheets pulled up tight under her ear. She closes her eyes, tries her usual sleep mantra of running through the lyrics from some of her favourite songs.

Three whole songs later and she gives up, she knows she's not going to get to sleep tonight, not the way her mind is whirling, so she gets up, pulls on some sports underwear and then slips into her bike leathers and boots.

Ten minutes later she's walking out onto the street, helmet slung over her arm as she heads for the Harley parked a block away on Greene. She slings her leg over the bike, settles back comfortably into the saddle and starts the bike up. The rumble of the engine and the vibrations running through the bike stir her pulse and she decides to sling the helmet over her arm … tonight she wants to feel the rush of air through her hair, and to hell with possible fines from traffic cams.

She slips on a pair of wrap-around night-time glasses, their yellow-tinted lenses designed to reduce glare and enhance night vision. Soon she's roaring down towards Battery Park, the cold air whipping her hair back and blowing the cobwebs from her mind, the city lights become a shimmering sequence of multi-coloured blurs which zip past ever faster as she hits Broadway and opens up the throttle even further.

Half an hour later she's turning off FDR and heading up the slip road which will bring her parallel to the Brooklyn Bridge and take her back towards the Civic Center on to Canal Street and all the way home.

She rolls the bike to a stop, kicks out the stand and turns the key, silencing the rumble of the engine. The exhilaration of her night-time ride is beginning to wear off already, but she reckons she'll be able to grab a couple of hours sleep before her shift begins.


	46. Chapter 46

**_Chapter 46_**

Rick Castle slips on his jacket, picks up his phone and checks for missed calls or messages. Several there, but none of them the ones he was hoping to find. With a shrug he drops it into a pocket, slides open the desk drawer and pulls out the little felt bag with his mother's jewellery and slips it into his pocket.

He walks into the Aesa jewellers on Crosby Street, one of his regular places for purchases and one of Martha's favourite shops. He's barely stepped through the dark grey door when Melissa walks over to welcome him. There's an exchange of hugs and cheek kissing and wafting perfume which he complements her on and she leads him over to the left-hand counter, the Yolande Batteau designed backdrop framing her raven dark hair and statuesque figure to perfection.

"_So Ricky, what can I do for you?_"

"_I've some pieces my mother's bought from you over the last couple of years and I'd just like to have them cleaned up and checked over … I'm sure they're fine, but she thought one of the stones might be a bit loose_"

Melissa takes the bag from him, glances at it but avoids raising any eyebrows. Each piece had its own box when sold, but she understands a client wanting the convenience of carrying several pieces in one pouch, even at the risk of ruining the pieces as they knock or rub against each other. Though she may disapprove, she's not about to tell one of her best customers how to treat expensive jewellery. Sliding the pieces onto her hand, she lays them out on a felt cloth sitting on the glass-topped counter and gives them a quick appraisal.

"_They look perfectly fine, but I'll certainly give them a clean and check for any play in the settings. Is there anything else you'd like to look at?_" she asks as she slips each piece into individual cellophane sachets which she then marks with his name and the work to be carried out.

"_Not today thanks Mel, but I expect my mother will be around over the next few weeks with Christmas coming up. One thing, can you make sure she doesn't know about this_ …" he adds, waving to the sachets sitting on the counter, "… _I'd like it to be a surprise_"

"_Of course, no problem, they should be ready to collect tomorrow, shall I give you a call?_"

"_That would be fine, thanks Mel_"

There's a second round of hugs and kisses and then he's out on the pavement hailing a cab and telling him to head for University and Tenth. He slips out a few doors from Amorino's and checks for the Harley. It's not there so he walks down to Bagel Bob's and pushes in through the door. Bob, recognising Kate's mysterious benefactor, waves him over to the end of the counter, leaving his assistant to deal with the queuing customers.

"_What can I do for you today Mister Castle?_"

Rick's surprised and pleased to be recognised "_You know who I am?_"

Bob shrugs "_Kate showed me a book of yours when you paid the first lot of coffees, she just wanted to make sure it was you, I guess_"

Rick swallows the slight disappointment at not being recognised for himself and pulls out his wallet, winking at Bob and saying, "_Just wanted to pay for the next month's instalment_"

Bob's surprised, he'd assumed the whole thing was some sort of joke, but the guy's obviously taking this seriously. Kate had been pretty pissed off at first but then she'd seemed to accept it so maybe it was better to get some money in the till and worry about possible fallout later.

He grabs a calculator, works out the monthly cost of her coffees, glances at the writer and adds a few dollars more to round it off … the guy probably won't notice anyway. He shows Castle the amount, watches him dig out the bills without querying and picks up a pad and pen. He writes _Kate_ across the top of the paper and the amount paid by the writer and drops both the bills and the note into the till.

"_Any messages?_" he asks, glancing at the marker pen up on the shelf next to the takeaway cups.

Castle shakes his head "_Not for the moment, maybe later_" then looks around, spots an empty table over to one side and points to it. "_I'll take a coffee and a danish whilst I'm here_" and heads over to claim the table.

He's invading her space and he knows he might be pushing it a bit, but he'd expected to hear from her last night and it's now Monday and he really wants to see her. So, ok, maybe it isn't a good idea, but he's willing to take the chance.

He's half-way through his coffee and enjoying the fresh danish when the rumble of the Harley makes him look up. He watches through the large plate glass window at the front of the room as she pulls up just outside the UMS offices next door. Admires the way the form-hugging leathers fit her slim body, the red and white highlights breaking the shiny black outfit which without them would look like the kind of cat suit he imagines Nikki Heat wearing. His mind's brought back to the present as she pulls her helmet off and reveals her face. He'd noticed on Saturday that her hair seemed slightly less auburn than before, slightly longer, and now in the cold light of day he's sure he's right.

She swings her leg over and stretches by the bike, Castle's aware that he's not the only one admiring the view, which makes him feel absurdly jealous and he's glowering at the back of a number of heads turned in her direction. Then she's disappears from sight and he assumes she's walked in next door.

Checking with Corrine that there's nothing for her, she tells her she's going to Bob's for a coffee and moments later is pushing the café's door open, gratefully making her way into the warmth and thinking of the coffee she's about to get. She comes to an abrupt halt halfway to the counter when, casually looking round the place she spots Castle over by the far wall.

He's looking at her, a smile on his face and her first reaction is to return it. Then she's remembering last night and the smile drops off her face. She sees his own smile falter, being replaced by puzzlement and she hesitates, thinks about turning round and walking straight out again. Then with a sigh she heads for the counter, aware that Bob's watching them, not missing anything. He hands her a coffee, making no comment and watching her as she heads over to the table where Castle's waiting with some apprehension.

She drops down into the chair opposite him, plops the paper cup down on the table with more force than she meant to and the coffee slops over the side, landing hot on her fingers and making her hiss in a mixture of frustration and pain. She lifts her fingers to her mouth, licks the spilt coffee off them and then goes to grab a paper serviette from the holder at the side of the table. Her hand knocks into Castle's as he's anticipated her and is already pulling one out for her.

"_What's up Kate?_" he asks, concern in his voice and not a little puzzlement.

She's silent for several moments as she concentrates on wiping her fingers dry, avoiding looking at him as she tries to ignore the sensation of their touching hands, the worried look he's been giving her, the concern in his voice.


	47. Chapter 47

**_Chapter 47_**

Eventually her fingers are dry and she has to say something, the silence becoming awkward. With a sigh she drops the crumpled paper onto the table, wraps her hands around the cup taking comfort from the radiating heat and reluctantly turns her eyes up to look at him.

He's sitting just a couple of feet from her but he has both elbows propped on the table, head forward, eyes looking at her in concern and worry, much closer than she'd realised and it makes her catch her breath. She can see herself reflected in his irises, the surrounding blue matches his shirt to perfection, a lock of hair tumbling down across his forehead making her want to reach out and brush it back into place.

Kate shakes her head, trying to clear her mind and insure coherent thoughts instead of letting her mind wonder the moment he's up close and personal.

"_What do you want from me Castle?_" it's just a whisper thrown into the small space between them, almost lost amidst the surrounding background noise of talk and clanking cutlery and conversation and called-out orders and shuffling customers.

His hands leave his own coffee, push the plate with the partially eaten danish aside and move to settle on her own around the paper cup. She shivers slightly as she feels his fingers gently brush the back of her hands, his thumbs rubbing circles on the fleshy part where her thumbs join her palms. After a few moments it's incredibly soothing and she's able to raise her eyes from where she's been staring at their hands to meet his concerned look.

"_What's happened?_" he asks

And she can't help smiling and retaliating with "_Now who's answering a question with another question?_"

There's a quick smiling acknowledgement of her rebuke but he's still looking at her, worry in his eyes. "_Something must have happened, I thought things were good the other night … today you're looking at me as if I've done something wrong. Whatever it is, I assure you it was unintentional_"

Now he's making her feel guilty and she quickly shakes her head in denial, adding "_No!_" and then, more quietly "_No, it's not you … it's me … I … I don't know where this is leading … and I'm not good with … emotions, with sharing … it kind of scares me_ …" and at the back of her mind she's thinking _why don't I just tell him the truth, that I don't trust him not to hurt me down the line_, but that is getting too close to her inner self and she's not ready to put that out there yet … maybe never … then he's talking and she's missed what he was saying.

"… _not to push or ask too much from you, let's just take things a step at a time, I can't promise not to be a jerk sometimes_ …" he gives her an apologetic smile "… _goes with the territory, but I promise I will never intentionally hurt you_"

His thumbs are still gently rubbing circles near her thumbs and it's making concentrating difficult and she's suddenly aware of a number of people surreptitiously watching them, so she pulls her hands away, clasps them in her lap and lifts her eyes to look at him. She catches the fleeting look of disappointment in his eyes and notices his hands are still on the table surrounding the empty space where hers had been only moments before. She watches as he pulls them back to his side of the table, defeat in the slight slump of his shoulders.

"_I can't talk here Castle, everyone is watching_ …" and she sees him look around, realising that despite they low-voiced conversation, their antics have drawn attention and not just from Bob who's watching the evolving situation with interest. He gives her a rather sheepish look and sits back.

"_So, would you like to come round for dinner tonight? My family will be there but we can go into the office afterwards and talk?_"

She shakes her head, "_I can't tonight … and your family, what are they going to think _…" she trails off.

"_They'll think we're discussing the book, and they won't be judging you if that's your concern. Look, I really want to help you out with your Mom's case … as long as you're still happy with that … the rest we'll take a step at a time, ok? I don't want to push you into a corner Kate, but I'm here whenever you're ready to talk, so I'll try and be patient and let you call me when you're ready_ …"

She's grateful he's not pushing, though she has a feeling he won't be able to hold back long. She feels the vibration of her phone and unzips the side pocket of her leathers, pulls it out and checks the message.

"_I've got a package to deliver Castle, I'll … I'll call you tonight ok?_"

"_Promise?_"

She stands up, picks up her undrunk coffee and glances down at him. He's sitting there, shoulders turned slightly, head tilted to look up at her, an expectant look on his face. She unconsciously bites her lip, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and nods.

He watches her as she hurries out of the café and disappears from sight. With a sigh he turns back to look at the table, neither the unfinished coffee nor the pastry particularly appealing now that she's been and gone. There's still a thin ring of coffee where her cup had been, the scrunched up paper napkin discarded nearby. He feels a bit like that napkin and the thought brings a rueful smile to his lips. Standing up he heads to the till, pays his tab and heads out into the pale sunlight. He's halfway along the pavement heading to the corner of University and 10th when he hears the Harley rumble to life behind him.

Turning, he watches as she puts it in gear, trundles back a few feet, turns and heads out into the traffic, a lithe, black-clad figure heading away from him. He wonders if it's symbolic as he loses her in the traffic, before hunching his shoulders and heading towards the corner, eyes searching for an empty cab.

Back at the loft he slips out of his jacket, drops it over the back of a kitchen stool and heads into the study. His mind already busy with the developing relationship between Nikki Heat and Jameson Rook, there's a bit of frustration, a bit of anger there and he knows he needs to get them out, the authenticity of writing is best when the emotions are real, he knows that from experience.

* * *

_**AN: Hey guys, just a shout out to thank you all for the comments, am enjoying the feedback! I've started responding to them and will hopefully have got back to everyone over the next couple of days. **_

_**For Wilker39: lol, every road has some bumps ... I'll just make sure mine aren't too big or too many ... **_


	48. Chapter 48

**_Chapter 48_**

The loft sits in pools of warm light, curtains closing out the city and the dark, the fire flickering and lending itself to the general glow of table lamps and wall brackets. The brighter area of light around the kitchen casts multiple shadows across floor and furniture as Alexis sits on one of the stools, books open before her, pen held between her fingers whilst she nibbles unconsciously on the capped end.

Castle has his back to her as he peels carrots, slices peppers and keeps a wary eye on the rice simmering away on the heat. He's been having a mental tug of war, wondering if he should mention Kate to his daughter or not. Ever since Gina and he signed the divorce papers he has never brought any of his affairs home, always going back to their places or heading for a hotel, ensuring page six and family were kept as far apart as possible.

Not that Kate is an 'affair' … he's not sure what she is exactly … ok, he knows what he would like her to be, but she seems reluctant to share with him and previously he'd have been quite happy to walk away and look for greener fields elsewhere. But there is something about her that has sunk claws into his gut, burns electricity along his skin and whispers into the empty parts of his soul.

"_You ok Dad?_"

He startles into awareness, turns his head to look at his daughter and realises he's still standing over a half-sliced pepper, knife held mid-air, the bubbling of the rice the only sound in the loft. He places the knife on the board, checks the rice is still ok and turns round, settling back against the worktop and crossing his arms as he looks at his daughter.

She's staring back at him, blue eyes slightly concerned, pen still clasped in her upraised hand, the capped tip an inch from her mouth. He gives her a smile, trying for the childish Dad he's used to playing. His daughter shakes her head slightly and he gives up, drops his arms and leans forward, resting both large hands on the counter between them.

"_What do you think of Kate?_" he asks, trying for casual.

Alexis caps the pen and places it on the granite top, closes her books and carefully stacks them before sliding them to one side. Crossing her arms on the worktop before her she gives her father an innocent look. "_What should I be thinking of her?_"

Castle knows his girl much too well to be taken in by the innocent approach. Oh shit! He's in for an adult talk by the looks of things. Part of him can't help grinning at the thought, but he's careful to keep it off his face.

"_Well, as you know, she's helping me with background and information for the new book_" here he pauses a bit, wondering how to broach the next bit and how much he can give away without upsetting Kate should she find out. "_She also lost her mother some time ago, she was murdered _…" and he sees the shock register on his daughter's face "… _and I offered to help her try and find out more about it_ …"

"_Why should you be helping her, Dad? Surely the police are the ones to deal with that?_"

"_They did, back in the day … only it was put down to random gang violence. Kate thinks there was more to it and I offered to help …_"

"_Dad! That could be dangerous!_" she interrupts him.

"_Its old information I'll be looking at Pumpkin, not a live case, I won't be going out to interview gang members or anything like that!_"

"_No Dad, I know you, you'll think you'll have found some lead and then you'll be off investigating … yes, you'll tell yourself you'll contact the police as soon as you have anything concrete, but that's just it, you won't know if you're in danger or not until it turns round and bites you!_"

He has to silently agree with his daughter, he might pretend he's just going to investigate background information, but she knows him better than anyone and what she's saying is true. And of course, that is what makes it all the more appealing, the possible danger though he's the first to admit he'd run at the first sign of trouble. But the lure of a mystery is what gets his pulse racing … and if the lure involves Kate Beckett in some way …

"_Alexis, I promise I won't go anywhere remotely dangerous, I'll only be looking into reports and files and maybe trying to come up with other ideas … and if anything does need investigating I'll have a word with Detectives Esposito and Ryan_"

"_Yeah Dad, like they're going to drop whatever case they're working on just to follow one of your hunches!_"

He gives her a pained look, "_I'd like to inform you, daughter mine, that when I was with them some of my insights were extremely helpful!_"

"_Yes, of course Dad, which was why Detective Ryan handcuffed you to the car and Detective Esposito threatened to shoot you_ …"

He has the decency to show some embarrassment at the memories but quickly recovers with "_That was only the first week! After that I was very helpful!_"

Alexis shakes her head but she knows there's no point in trying to reason with her Dad on these matters. She's also aware that the original question is still hanging out there waiting to be answered.

"_Ok, so she's helping you with the book and you're helping her with her Mum's murder investigation … and what else?_"

Castle rubs his chin, glad his mother isn't present, dealing with his daughter's cross-examination is bad enough, having Martha throwing in her two bits worth would be lethal.

"_I don't know Pumpkin, there's something about her … I'd like to know more, but she's pretty skittish and I wouldn't want to put anyone in a difficult situation …" _he was about to add _if she thinks she's not welcome here_ but pauses, not wanting to force the issue or make it all about Kate even though she was the point of the conversation.

"_It's ok Dad, I quite liked her … just … just be careful ok?_"

He moves round the island, drops his arms round his daughter and gives her a hug as he drops a kiss on her head. "_Thanks Pumpkin, I appreciate it_"

"_Uhm, not that I don't like your hugs Dad, but I think I can smell burning rice!_"

The rice can't be rescued in time, it's a bit overcooked and stuck to the bottom of the pan, so he empties the pot, leaves it to soak, puts another pot on to boil and continues chopping veg whilst talking to Alexis about school and what she has lined up for Christmas, now less than two months away. Their conversation is interrupted by the ringing of Castle's phone and asking Alexis to keep an eye on things he makes for the coffee table where his phone's lying next to a book on New York's architecture.

Picking it up he sees the incoming call is from Kate, so waving to Alexis he indicates the study and makes his way through the doorway, round his desk and drops into his chair, finger swiping across the screen and a quiet "_Hey_" being directed at the microphone.


	49. Chapter 49

**_Chapter 49_**

"_Hey, is it a good time?_" she asks, pulling her feet up onto the couch and settling back against the cushions, lip caught between her teeth and the fingers of her free hand picking at the seam of her jeans.

"_Any time is a good time Kate_" and the warmth of his voice helps her nerves to settle somewhat. "_I'm glad you called_"

She's glad she's called as well, now that she hears his voice, though she's not sure where this is going to lead. "_So _…" and her mind goes blank.

She hears his amused chuckle over the line … well, airwaves … and feels the heat rising up her neck. Then he's interrupting her self-embarrassment with "_How was your day Kate?_"

"_Well it started ok, then some goofus made me spill my mid-morning coffee and left me having to come up with all sorts of excuses for when I pick up tomorrow's dose_" and she has to smile at how easy it is to banter with him, despite the potentially awkward situation.

"_You should give the goofus a chance to make amends then, have him get you another coffee tomorrow, maybe something to eat, let him apologise_ …" and the deep voice and laughing tone ease her further. She's no longer picking at the seams, unconsciously she's twirling her hair between her fingers, smiling at his attempt to push the unspoken boundaries.

"_I think we offered enough of a spectacle this morning, I wouldn't want to have the goofus turn it into a circus_"

"_Hmm, well, how about letting the guy make up for it by taking you somewhere quiet where you can both enjoy a coffee and don't need to worry about people sitting at the next table?_"

"_You … I mean the goofus does realise I only have a short break right?_"

"_Short breaks are the goofus' speciality … well and medium and long … anything involving a break, he's good for!_"

She has to laugh out loud and shakes her head, "_I bet!_"

"_So, same time as today? … just to let the goofus know I mean!_"

"_I don't know, depends on deliveries_"

"_So, how about we make it for roughly the same time, I'll … the goofus will have everything ready, you just call him when you get there_"

"_Ok, sounds good, but you'd better warn him, any over the top stuff and I'm outta there!_"

"_You're almost asking the impossible, but I'll make sure he gets the message_"

For a moment they're both silent, not sure where to take the conversation. As usual it's the impatient Rick who allows his impulses to take over. "_About your Mom's case, maybe you could come round to the loft in the afternoon, bring whatever you have so we can go through it … I'll understand if you don't want to … but …_" he trails off, hating not having her in front of him, unable to gauge her reaction to his words, unsure if he's again pushing too much or not.

Kate looks around her flat, thinks of asking him to come here instead, but then she remembers his large touch screen, how he'd set out the contents of the _Kate_ folder, she also admits there's a reluctance to have him see her place, not that there's anything wrong with it, it's clean, tidy, neat … small … and her last vestige of privacy where Rick Castle is concerned.

Maybe it's better to go to his place, she can leave at any time, doesn't have to accommodate him, watch his eyes judging her, her home …

"_You still there Kate?_" his voice brings her back to the present and she mumbles an apology, wonders if she appears as witless to him as she does to herself.

"_How about I let you … I mean let goofus know tomorrow?_"

"_Sounds good, I_ …" he's not sure how far to go but again he's crossing his fingers and hoping for the best, "_I really hope you say yes, I'd like to help if I can … I also have …" _and then he clams up about the consultancy fee, not wanting to turn it into a commercial enterprise, "… _well, as I said, I'd like to look over the case_"

There's a moment's silence and he thinks maybe he's screwed up again, but she answers with a "_We'll see what happens Castle, see you tomorrow_"

"_Goodnight Kate_" and he lets out a silent thank you before adding "_Have a good night_"

"_You too Castle_" and she cuts the call, sits unmoving and staring at the phone still in her hand, brows knit as she wonders what he'd been about to say … he has what? Unable to fathom the cryptic remark she shrugs and dropping the phone onto the couch beside her, picks up the remote and turns the TV on.

Rick leaves the office slipping the phone back into his pocket and in a much more cheerful frame of mind. Alexis is already plating up and he's surprised enough to check his watch, he thought he'd only been in there for a few minutes but obviously their conversational pauses are longer than he'd thought. He helps her carry the food over to the couch, then whilst she pours herself a juice he opens the a bottle of wine, making a mental note to purchase a couple of bottles of Kate's favourite for tomorrow … in case.

Sitting back down next to Alexis he's about to turn the TV on when he feels her stare. Turning his head he looks down at her, eyebrows raised in enquiry.

"_I take it that was Kate?_"

Still staring down at her he simply nods his head

"_You know you don't have to hide away right Dad? Not unless you're talking dirty_" and there's a very amused look in those pale blue eyes which makes it extremely difficult for him to maintain a straight face.

But he manages to match her poker face with his own adding, "_Just arranging for her to come over tomorrow afternoon, I have to pay her for her consultancy work and I'm also hoping she'll bring her Mom's case file so that I can have a look at it_".

"_Really? Case file? Since when have you become PI Rick Castle, the scourge of worthless cops and Gotham's saviour?_"

"_Since someone's about to go to bed with no desert for impertinence and irreverence!_"

"_My apologies to Batman and Co, I wouldn't want to sully their reputation by comparing them to Private Dick Castle_ …" no longer able to keep a serious face, Alexis has to grin at her father's horrified look.

"_What have you done with my daughter, uncouth denizen of Arkham?_"

"_She's all growed up … this is what you get from now on_"

With a sorrowful shake of his head, Rick turns back to his plate with a loudly whispered "_Woe is me, for I have begotten me the very devil's spawn … who also murders the English language!_"

"_I wonder who I take after, maybe I should ask Grams_" is her casual response as she switches the TV on and they settle back to enjoy dinner, Castle leaning forward to pick up his glass of wine and hide his grin from his daughter.

Then, leaning over to drop a kiss on her head he says "_Promise me you won't get all 'growed' up too quickly Pumpkin_"


	50. Chapter 50

**_Chapter 50_**

Rick wakes to the alarm set for earlier than usual. At first he's a bit confused, then remembers the amount of things he has to get through before meeting Kate for coffee. A quick shower, then he dresses in jeans, blue button-down shirt and after a look out the windows pulls a warm jacket from the closet and drops it on the bed. Next he opens a drawer and pulls out the Patek Philippe with the black crocodile strap he usually wears with his tux and slips it into his breast pocket.

Heading over to the kitchen he gets the coffee machine going and pulls a thermos out from one of the cupboards. As soon as the coffee's made he pours it into the thermos, pulls a pump bottle of French Vanilla from the fridge, something he's picked up since noticing the coffees Kate gets at Bob's, grabs a couple of spoons and carries them over to the coffee table.

Next he grabs a couple of blankets, wraps one around the thermos and the other round the vanilla bottle and slips everything into a sports bag, picks up his jacket and heads outside to walk round the corner onto Crosby. There's a young couple coming out the door of Aesa and he lets them out before stepping inside.

"_Hi Ricky! Come for your Mom's jewellery?_"

"_Only if they're ready Mel, I was just walking down to Parisi's and came in on the off chance_ _…_"

"_Well that saves me a call, I've got them ready for you here_ …" walking round behind one of the counters and pulling open a drawer, "… _Tim checked all the settings and they're fine, he also cleaned them up as you asked, they're good as new!_"

"_Thanks Mel, appreciated, and say hi to Tim for me will you? I also wanted to drop this in for a new strap, it's beginning to get a bit worn_" pulling the Patek Philippe from his pocket and handing over, "_I'm in no rush, so I'll pick it up another day_"

"_No problem Rick, same strap?_" and on getting his nod "_Do you want me to add it to this bill or leave it till you come in for it?_"

"_I'll pay for it when I pick it up_" he decides, wanting Martha's jewellery on its own bit of paper.

Melissa makes out the bill for him, runs his credit card through the terminal, slips everything into a carrier bag and accompanies him to the door.

He heads round to Parisi's Bakery and picks up a couple of boxed bear claws which he adds to the sports bag, his final stop for this stage of operations being the florists a few doors down from Parisi's. With everything he hopes he needs for later on in the bag, Castle steps out to the edge of the sidewalk and flags a cab down, checking his watch as he slides into the seat and pulls the door closed behind him. One hour down, one and a half to go …

He slips the cabby a note and tells him to keep the change as he pulls in opposite the 12th Precinct, climbs out of the cab and dodging cars makes it across the road and up the steps. He signs in, collects his _Visitors_ badge and heads up to Robbery. He spots Detective Demming talking to a couple of uniforms and heads over towards the guy's desk. He's caught Demming throwing a look his way, but the Detective carries on talking to the officers for several moments before slapping one of them on the shoulder and heading over towards where Castle is standing waiting for him.

"_Well Mister Castle, come to complain about the lack of progress in your case?_"

Rick's surprised and it shows, not only is he highly respectful of NYPD's members as a whole given the time he's spent trailing around behind the two Homicide Detectives, the barely concealed disdain from the Robbery Detective seems to him to be inexplicable. Deciding to ignore it however, he pastes an apologetic smile onto his lips and shrugs.

"_Far from it Detective, I actually came to apologise for wasting your time_"

Demming throws him a puzzled look, sits down behind his desk and waves Castle to take the visitor's chair across from him. "_What do you mean?_"

"_Well, it would appear that my mother never lost her jewels last month_" he says, slipping his hand into the carrier bag and extracting the now perfectly cleaned items along with the receipt from Aesa. "_It seems she took them to be cleaned and then forgot … I assume that with the shock of the assumed burglary along with her advanced age_ …" and he sincerely hopes Martha never hears him say any of this "… _it probably slipped her mind. I went this morning to leave a watch for repairs and that was when they told me they had her pieces ready to be collected_" he finishes with another apologetic shrug and holds his breath, cursing himself for giving too much information, _shit Rick, never give more information than you need to, it's the first giveaway of a lie, should have just said you'd gone in to drop something in … the watch part was too much_.

Detective Demming pulls a folder from a drawer, opens it up and flips the pages till he comes to the part listing and describing the items stolen from the loft. Checking the jewels he nods and then picks up the receipt.

He looks up at Castle, a frown on his face "_You wouldn't happen to have the bill as well would you Mister Castle?" _Rick fishes inside the carrier from Aesa and pulls out the itemised bill which he hands over. Detective Demming looks it over and then raises his eyes to look at Castle. "_The bill is made out for today Mister Castle, surely if they were ready before, the bill would have an earlier date?_"

Castle thanks his writer's imagination which had him running through probable scenarios on the trip to the station. "_In actual fact the original bill was made out in my mother's name several weeks ago I believe, however I didn't want to add to her embarrassment, so I asked the shop to make out a new one in my name … also helps with taxes you know_" he adds as a rider.

Demming's eyes flicker from the bill to Castle's face and then back to the bill again. Finally with a shrug he pushes the jewels and bill across towards Castle and adds, "_If you'll just wait a moment I'll write this up and you can sign it_" saying which he turns to his computer and starts hammering away at the keyboard.

Castle is both relieved and amused. Demming obviously has some issue with him … or maybe it's just with people like him, but at least he seems to have swallowed his story, reluctantly, but still.

The printer over by the wall comes to life and churns out three copies of the document which Demming gets up to retrieve. Returning to the desk he remains standing and slides the sheets over to Castle along with a pen, "_If you wouldn't mind signing each copy_ …"

Castle checks over the two paragraphs of text which basically state that the missing items had been recovered by the owner and that the case was now a simple B&E with nothing missing, going on to say where and why the missing items had been all along. Castle could almost feel the impatience coming off the paper. He quickly signs all three copies and slips the one Demming returns to him into the carrier bag along with the jewellery, bill and receipt.

Standing up, he apologises once more to the Detective and heads off towards the lift, happy to get away from Robbery and head up to Homicide. A quick check of his watch tells him he still has just over an hour to go … he'll need twenty minutes to reach his intended destination so that gives him less than half an hour with Espo and Ryan if they are in the bullpen.


	51. Chapter 51

**_Chapter 51_**

The Homicide floor is a noisy cacophony of phones, machinery and conversation as Castle steps out of the lift and looks around. Spotting Ryan over by the murder board he grins and walks over to him. "_Hey Ryan, how's things?_"

"_Hey Castle, what brings you to Homicide again, need someone to drive your Ferrari?_" answers the small Detective as he shakes Castle's hand.

"_Yeah, like a toothache Kevin, you got a moment?_"

Just then the door to the Captain's office opens and Esposito appears, closing the door behind him. He's surprised to see Castle there but grins as he approaches "_Yo Castle! What's new?_"

"_Morning Espo, just came in to see if you guys have a minute to spare .. anything heavy going down?_"

Detective Esposito shakes his head, waving his hand at the murder board which shows a female vic lying in a pool of blood on an expensive looking carpet along with a couple of photos under the headings of _Witnesses_ and none under _Suspects_. There's a couple of subway tickets, scanned documents which appear to be handwritten notes and a number of photos from the crime scene which looks very much like a hotel room.

"_Waiting on Tox and lab reports … maybe you want to lend a hand?_" he jokes

"_Another time guys, I was just wondering, uhm … I've been doing some research for the new book and along the way heard about an old case which would kind of fit into my story, I didn't get much about it and thought maybe you guys could let me have a peek?_"

Both cops look at him with raised eyebrows and Ryan butts in with "_You think we're your personal researchers or something Castle?_"

He grins at them and says "_Yes?_"

Espo shakes his head in disgust then checks to see that the Captain's door is still closed. "_Not promising anything man, but who's the vic?_"

"_Rico Cambrea_" says Castle

Both cops look at him in astonishment, "_You looking into the Cambreas?_"

"_No, no! I was looking into big-time robberies and someone happened to mention something about Rico Cambrea getting wasted and about the MO being similar to another case … I was just curious_"

"_Well I'd keep well away from the Cambreas if I were you, and you really need to check with Gangs if you want info on them … that is if they even let you onto their floor_" Ryan grins.

"_It was a homicide, I thought maybe you could give me the Investigating Officer's name and I could maybe go talk to him?_"

Both Detectives know Castle is just trying to wheedle the information out of them but until they get the reports back from the Labs or the Morgue there's not much they can do without wasting time and stepping on toes, so Ryan sits down at his desk, pulls up the database and types in _Cambrea, Rico_ …

Espo and Rick crowd round behind him until a look from both cops has Castle sheepishly moving back round to the front of the desk. He realises it's one thing for the Captain to walk out and find the two cops looking at the computer with Castle round in front of them, something else if he sees all three looking at the screen … he has to remember that he no longer forms part of the team as he did for a number of weeks last year.

"_Cambrea, Rico, died September third, two thousand two … age twenty five … got a rap sheet as long as your arm … investigating Detective, John Raglan, suspected he was killed in a drug deal gone wrong, multiple stab wounds including one lethal one to the kidneys … several suspects … all alibied out … no conviction … case went nowhere, shelved … January, two thousand three_" Ryan finishes reading and turns to Espo, "_How come we haven't come across this before?_" he asks, puzzled.

Detective Esposito shook his head, "_Maybe Gangs looked into it?_"

"_You guys look at cold cases?_" Rick asks, mentally keeping tag of all the information Ryan had read out.

Espo nods, "_Anytime we don't have a case on, we go take a look at the unsolved ones … to be honest we don't have much time, New York's citizens keep us pretty busy as it is … but two oh two is still pretty fresh where cold cases are concerned and as Ryan says, I'm surprised we haven't come across it before, must have just got buried in amongst the others_"

"_You couldn't look to see if there were any similar cases … using the same MO … around that time could you?_" asks Castle.

Both cops stare up at him, Ryan from where he's sitting behind the computer screen, Espo from where he's leaning down at Ryan's shoulder, one hand on the desk the other on the back of Ryan's chair. Both looks are full of suspicion and intrigue, the two cops remembering how some of Castle's off-the-wall ideas had actually panned out during his time with them. Castle tries to keep his face from showing anything but curiosity …

The two Detectives look at each other, then glance at the Captain's door, then turn back to the computer. Ryan goes back to the database query form and fills in the MO, hits search and sits back to wait for results. Castle is finding it difficult to stand still, his instinct to crowd round the screen while waiting for the information, but the constant looks he's getting from the two Detectives as their eyes flicker from the screen to him and back to the screen again not only make him even more nervous, they also tell him its best to just stay where he is for the moment.

There's a discreet ping and both Detectives lean forward, staring at the screen. Ryan clicks the mouse a number of times, drags it around as he repositions windows on the screen and then both cops are staring up at him, brows furrowed, eyes not too friendly.

"_What ..?_ " he stutters as he takes in their looks.

"_What do you know Castle?_"

"_Wha … nothing, honestly, I … I heard about the Rico murder, it sounded weird enough to fit into one of my stories _…" he comes to a stop as they continue to stare at him "_Why?_"

Espo taps Ryan's shoulder, stands up straight and heads for the Captain's office. Castle surreptitiously checks his watch, worried about the time. "_Got somewhere you'd rather be Castle?_" asks Ryan.

"_I'm meeting someone in about thirty minutes, I'll have to leave here in ten if I don't want to be late_"

"_You can leave any time Castle, you don't need to hang around_"

"_You kidding? Something's obviously popped or you two wouldn't be giving me the hard looks!_"

Ryan smothers a grin, the time Castle had spent with them had not only shown him to be pretty intuitive where the whacky cases were concerned, he'd also been like an over-enthusiastic kid at times.

Espo returns with Captain Montgomery trailing behind him. The Captain shows no surprise at seeing Castle there, obviously already informed of his presence by Esposito. Montgomery has no problem with Castle's presence, shaking hands with the writer and clapping him on the back. Not only is he well aware of Rick's relationship with the Mayor and the positive publicity not only the Twelfth, but the NYPD as a whole had received from Castle's book, but he's also a regular at the Gotham City Group's poker nights, rubbing shoulders with the Mayor, Judge Markaway and Rick himself.

Joining his Detectives by the computer screen he looks at the information pulled up by Ryan's casual query. Looking up at Castle he raises his eyebrows, "_You know anything about this Castle?_" The informality of calling him Rick is kept for their poker nights.

"_About what Captain? All I'm getting are weird looks and I don't even know why!_"

"_Two other cases with a similar MO, one in nineteen ninety nine, the other in two thousand five, the guys at 32__nd__ handled the ninety nine case and the two oh five one is with the 19th Precinct _"

"_That's … That's one every three years? A serial killer?_" Castle desperately wants to know if the 1999 victim is called Beckett, but right now he's better to keep that to himself. His comment however has all three cops exchanging worried looks.


	52. Chapter 52

_**Chapter 52**_

Captain Montgomery straightens up and waves at the murder board "_Soon as you two have cleared the current case, I want you to pull these up, get the files from the other precincts, talk to the guys involved and go through all three cases with a toothcomb_" then looking at Castle with a slight smile on his face "_Maybe Mister Castle would be interested in consulting … after all he seems to be the one responsible for stirring up this hornets' nest …_" then looking down at the two Detectives, he adds "_Don't lose focus on the current case, let me know as soon as you have something_" and with a wave and a "_see you Castle_" he heads back to his office.

Rick can hardly keep his excitement in check, he'd come in on a doubtful fishing expedition and has ended up sitting in the middle of the best fishing spot in town. With a last check of his watch he waves to the two Detectives "_Ok guys, I need to get going, let me know when you start on those cases?_" he says and seeing them nod, heads for the lift.

It's gone eleven fifteen when he makes it to his destination, giving him enough time to set everything out as he wants it. Several passers-by, wrapped up against the cold, give him amused looks but he ignores them and has just settled down to wait when his phone chimes. Grabbing for it he swipes his finger cross the screen and reads the message _**Where to?**_ He pulls up her number and hits call.

"_Hey Castle_"

"_Hey Kate, you outside the office?_"

"_Yep_"

"_Ok, head down two blocks and into the park_" and cuts the call, grinning like a kid at Christmas.

Kate slips her phone into her pocket, looks up at the grey sky which is just a white glare where the sun should be, the weak sunlight which filters through not enough to fight the coldness of the air, barely managing to cast shadows across sidewalks. She shrugs, if the guy wants to meet her in a park who's she to argue. She can just make out the gap in the buildings further down the street where Washington Square Park offers an open space to the students of NYU.

As she walks into the park, past the currently bare trees and empty flower beds which will offer an oasis if green from spring through to late summer, she keeps turning her head searching for the writer. She's well into the north-east corner of the park when she spots him waving to her.

He's sitting on one of the curved wooden benches near the Garibaldi statue, blanket spread over the slats, another over his legs, thermos flask standing on the bench beside him. She laughs as she approaches, shaking her head and wondering how he'd ever convinced her … though she has to admit she's pleased at the effort he's gone to.

He stands as she reaches him waving to the blanket-covered bench and offering an exaggerated bow as he says "_Milady_"

She gives a half-embarrassed, half-laughing curtsy and sits on the bench, whereupon he shakes the blanket he's carrying out and drapes one end over her legs, sitting down and dropping the other end over his own lap. Bending down he pulls out a sports bag from under the bench and carefully lifts out a cardboard box which he places in the space between them, beside the flask. She sees Parisi Bakers printed on the side and can make out what look like bear claws through the cellophane centrepiece in the lid. He's diving into the bag once more and comes up with a small plastic cylinder with an attached clip. This has her puzzled as he squeezes the clip open and attaches it to the top slat of the bench's backrest. Once more he ducks down to the bag and this time comes up with a carnation which he slots into the holder and she has to giggle at the looks their getting from passers-by.

"_Castle, is this your idea of discreet?_"

He's bent down diving once more into the bag but stops, twisting his head to look up at her, mischievous look on his face, eyes crinkled in laughter "_I never said discreet Beckett, I said somewhere where you didn't need to worry about people sitting at the next table _…" and with a casual wave around, "_You see any tables?_"

Then he's straightening up and placing a bottle of sugar-free vanilla creamer next to the flask. Her eyebrows shoot up at that and then she's looking at the items spread on the bench between them, shaking her head in awe. He's busy opening the thermos, pouring coffee into one of the cups and carefully handing it to her before picking up the bottle of creamer and holding it over her cup "_Two?_" and she nods, watches the creamer splash and swirl gently into the superbly aromatic coffee. He hands her a spoon, opens the box containing the bear claws and then pours his own coffee.

Kate drops the spoon into the upturned lid of the pastry box, picks up one of the claws and takes a bite. She hums in pleasure and then takes a sip of coffee, relishing this unexpected treat. Looking up she catches him watching her. "_What?_" she asks, a small dusting of icing sugar coating her upper lip.

He's tempted to lean forward and kiss the icing off but decides that's maybe too dangerous right now, so he just grins and asks "_So, is goofus forgiven?_"

She's conscious his eyes keep straying to her lips and the look he's giving them leaves little to the imagination. It's making her breath catch in her throat and her mind wander and she has to concentrate on what he said … "_Maybe, so far he's doing pretty good_" taking another sip of coffee and turning to look at the carnation in its holder, she shakes her head, the guy's crazy, wonderfully crazy!

They each have a second cup of coffee, finish the bear claws and then she's looking at her watch, a large, masculine Omega which he's tempted to ask her about but thinks maybe now isn't the time. They've been talking about their favourite parks and places in the city and now she has to leave and he can't wait any longer.

"_Will you come over this afternoon?_" he asks as she begins to pull the blanket off her legs and dust crumbs off her leathers.

She stops, one hand holding the blanket the other poised near her breast. "_No strings attached?_"

He nods, wishing he could tie her in knots and stop her leaving but aware that he's going to need much more time with her before that happens. "_No strings attached, you bring the paperwork, we have lunch if you arrive early enough, we talk about your Mom if you don't, you stay for dinner if you'd like to, you leave whenever you want_"

He waits, watching her watch him, then she nods, it's abrupt, like she's come to a decision on an important matter. She stands up, pushing the blanket aside and stretching her legs slightly to get rid of the kinks from sitting sideways.

"_I'll need to go home, get changed, put all the paperwork together …. I guess I won't get there before four. Want a hand to put all this away?_"

He shakes his head, "_No need Kate, it'll only take me a minute … I look forward to seeing you later ._.." standing up himself as he says so. Suddenly she's leaning towards him brushing a kiss to his cheek, much less than he wants, much more than he expected given her attitude towards him the last few days.

She grins at his slightly stunned expression, "_That was for the flower_" she says, giving him a bright smile and turning to saunter off. He watches her disappear towards the street and then turns to look at the remnants of their breakfast or whatever it was. _Huh! For the flower was it?_ Grinning he packs it all away, disposes of the empty box in a bin and heads out to hail a cab.


End file.
